Danielle Winchester
by diaryofdean
Summary: Sam and Dean hunt with their sister, Danielle. Set from the beginning of season one. Co-written with loveintheimpala.
1. Welcome Home

_Welcome to our new story!_

 _So, I was talking to my lovely fanfiction friend, loveintheimpala, about how I wanted to start writing a Supernatural sister story that started from season one, and she told me how she wanted to rework her wonderful story Maxie Winchester, which is a sisfic that was set from season one. So, we've teamed up together to write a new story, and I can only thank her for all of the time and effort that she has put into writing this with me. There is no way that I would have been able to do this without her support and hard work, so thank you so much Kara, I hope we did it justice! _

_The name Danielle is a shout out to loveintheimpala, because I'm currently fangirling like crazy over her new story; Dawn of the Winchester, which is shaping up into a great read!_

 _Danielle is the middle child in this fic, so Sam is 22, Danielle is 24, and Dean is 26._

 _Really hope that you guys enjoy this! Thank you for reading!_

* * *

 **Danielle Winchester**

 **Chapter One: Welcome Home**

 _Portland, Oregon_ _— Motel Room — 11:45 AM._

"Danielle Winchester!"

Dean's voice rang through the open bathroom door as he clambered around the motel room, and Danielle could only imagine that he was making some futile attempt at gathering up the weeks worth of clothes and mess that he had left lying around in there. It was always the same when they came to move on from somewhere, and she didn't bother to turn around to see what he wanted. All she could do was spit out the toothpaste from her mouth and give a half-hearted roll of her green eyes. She looked back to the mirror before her and she pushed a lock of blonde hair behind her ear with a sigh. She couldn't understand why he seemed to be in such a hurry to leave when, as far as she knew, they didn't have a new destination in sight. It wasn't like him.

"I swear to god," Dean continued, apparently not taking the hint that she was intent on ignoring him. "If your ass isn't in that car in the next five seconds, I'm leaving you here!"

There was a playfulness to his tone, enough to give away that he was kidding around. But, saying that, he always was.

Danielle scoffed at the idea, and she gathered together her things from the counter beside the sink. "Yeah, right." she called back. She stepped from the bathroom and grabbed her duffel bag from the nearest bed. She threw it over her shoulder and shot him a pointed look. "Like you could survive a _day_ without me."

Dean turned to her, as though offended, and she raised an eyebrow as if to challenge him.

But all Dean could do was laugh at her, as though he was nothing but amused by her confidence. "Yeah, whatever you say, Dani." he remarked, sarcastic.

A light chuckle escaped him, and he gave her a soft shove in the back of the shoulder towards the motel's door, as though to remind her that they had places to be. He gave the room one last look over before he grabbed his car keys from the table and he pulled the door closed behind them with a slam.

The sun shone down over them from the clear blue sky above, and she squinted through the sudden brightness. It was a welcome change from the dull motel room behind them. And, after a week of being cooped up in there, the fresh air and long drive ahead of them was a welcome change, for both of them. Dean tossed her the keys to the Impala and dumped his bag over her arm without warning. He snickered to himself as he turned and headed off in the opposite direction towards the motel's reception to check them out.

Danielle rolled her eyes at him, and she shook her head as she headed towards the car. The black paint glistened in the sunlight, and it crossed her mind that their father would no doubt be proud of the condition his eldest child had kept it in. But they were thoughts that she didn't want to give much time to. Lately, thinking about their dad never brought her to any good conclusions. She tossed the bags into the trunk and climbed into the passenger seat. She pulled off her jacket and threw it over her shoulder to the back seat. The weather was warm to say that it was nearing November, the sun was hot and the wind was almost non-existent, but it wasn't something that she expected would last.

It was in moments like that when things felt a little surreal. Despite the fact that their life could be considered anything but normal, Danielle was happy, and a smile came to her face. She was content. Hunting was all she and Dean had wanted to do since they had found out about the family business, and now that was what they were doing. If she and Dean had ever had one thing in common, it was the fact that they both loved the job. They loved driving down empty highways at full speed with the music turned up full, they loved saving people, and feeling like they were actually making some kind of a difference to the world. She would even go as far as to say that she loved the heart attack inducing take out food that came with it. Despite the upset and fights and pain that the job had brought them over the years, all of the rough patches their family had been through because of it, she wouldn't have changed where they were now for anything. They were happy. They were on their own, they were independent, and they could just hunt.

"What are you smiling about?" Dean's voice came from beside her, and it was followed by the sound of a door slamming closed.

Danielle glanced up at him, and she shook her head. "Nothing." she muttered. "Can we go?"

Dean offered a smirk as he set the car into gear, and the music suddenly blared from the speakers. He took off out of the motel's parking lot, and, over the music, she was sure that she heard the tires screech on the road. It occurred to her, he seemed to have much more of an idea at where they were heading than she did. It wasn't like Dean to wake up in a morning and decide that they had to just up and leave immediately, especially without him saying where they were going. Something was off about it.

"Where are we going, anyway?" she asked, curious, and she had to raise her voice to be heard over the music.

Dean glanced between her and the road, and the smile noticeably faded from his face. "We're going to get some help." he replied simply, and his tone gave nothing away.

But the comment brought a frown to her face. "Help?" she pressed, and she shifted the slightest bit in her seat to face him. "Help from who?"

The confusion was clear in her question, but his eyes were fixed solely to the road as though he could avoid facing her. She reached out and turned down the music to a more suitable level and her voice became serious.

"Is this about dad?" she pushed, hesitant, because it was a conversation that she knew he didn't like having.

Their father had gone off somewhere, not too unusual a thing for him to do, claiming that whatever he was involved with was too dangerous for them to know about. Danielle could have accepted that. She wouldn't have asked questions, and she knew that Dean wouldn't have, either. But then it was as though he had just dropped off the planet. They hadn't heard anything from him in weeks, not until yesterday. They had gotten a voicemail from him, and she would have been lying if she said it hadn't freaked her the hell out.

But Dean still didn't respond, and it was as though he was struggling for words.

"Are we talking help from Bobby? Caleb?" She frowned, because who else was there? It wasn't like they had a huge number of people to pick from. "Who?"

Dean remained silent for a long moment, and it seemed as though he wasn't willing to answer her. She could see it in his face, whatever it was, he wasn't expecting her to like what he was going to say.

"Actually," He cleared his throat, as though awkward, apprehensive. "I was thinking a little closer to home."

Danielle frowned, because now she really wasn't following. There wasn't anyone much closer to home. Was there? They had no family to turn to when they needed some kind of help, they would usually just stick together and get through anything by themselves. She opened her mouth, ready to ask him who he was talking about, but she stopped, and a horrible thought came to mind.

"Please, tell me you don't mean who I think you mean?" He gave no reaction. " _Sam_?"

The look on his face proved everything, and she shook her head in disbelief. Sam Winchester. It was a name she hadn't spoken in a long, long time. It was a name she hadn't heard spoken for even longer. In fact, she couldn't recall the last time either of them had so much as mentioned their younger brother.

"He's Sam's dad, too, Dan." Dean offered, and it was clear that he had made up his mind. "He should help."

"Dean," Danielle sighed, because she didn't know what to say.

They both missed Sam, whether they wanted to admit it to each other or not, but they had never once been to see him, they never called him anymore, just like he never called them. They had all gone their separate ways, and, if that was what he wanted, if that was what made him happy, she was prepared to accept that. Even if it wasn't what she wanted.

"Sam isn't going to want to help us." she stated, sympathetic. It was a long way to drive to be told to leave again.

Dean glanced between her and the road, and he raised an eyebrow. "And how do you know that?" he pressed. His tone remained light, casual, as though nothing bothered him about the situation. But she could see that to be a front.

"Because, he left." she countered. "And he left for a reason. He doesn't want anything to do with this life, he doesn't want to be dragged back into it, Dean. It's not fair to ask him to come back."

"Well, sometimes life isn't fair." he remarked. "That's what family is, Dan. They crash into your lives when you least expect it because they need help. That's just how it is."

Danielle gave a short shake of her head. "Dean, are you sure about this?" she pressed. "I mean, I'm sure dad's fine. He's probably just caught up in a hunt or something, you know how he gets." she reasoned.

"I don't know, Dan. I just, I can't shake this feeling. Something is wrong." He shrugged. "I need you to trust me on this. Going to Sam is the right thing to do."

His eyes left the road for a split second, and they found hers. He was worried, there was no denying that, whether he wanted to admit it or not, something in his eyes proved his fear. He didn't have to say it, and he knew that. She could see it. She always could, sometimes even before he knew it was there himself.

"Okay." She nodded, because him asking her to trust him was something she would never give a second thought to.

Her attention turned back to the road, and she looked out at the highway before them. Even as kids, she had always considered herself to be so much more like Dean than Sam. The two of them had always shared the same attitude, the same drive, the same train of thought. Whether that was towards school or hunting, or to the less important stuff like movies or food, they were much more alike than she and Sam had ever been. Dean was undoubtedly her best friend, and he always had been. But lately, it had been just the two of them, and all they had anymore was each other. They were closer than they ever had been, and she trusted him enough to go along with him on this, the same way that she knew he would have trusted her had it been the other way around.

That didn't mean that she didn't love Sam, of course she did. Sam had always been her kid brother, someone she would have done anything to protect from the world. But that was then. She hadn't seen him in four years. Things had changed. She had barely spoken to him aside from the few calls here and there, calls that had also rapidly decreased in number as time had passed by. Now, they were basically non existent. She lied about it, but she missed him more than she would ever let on. She missed the days when the three of them had been a family. But she understood. She knew why he had left, and she didn't blame him for that. She never could.

"Hey, Dean?" Her voice broke the silence, soft, almost timid.

"Yeah?" he asked, and he looked to her for a moment.

"You think he's okay, right? I mean..." she trailed off, because even she didn't know what she was trying to ask.

Dean sighed, and there was a faint hint of sadness to it. She was scared, she was worried, more than she had ever let on. She missed their dad, they both did. And not knowing where he was didn't fill either of them with much confidence.

"I don't know, sis." he answered, honestly. "But, hey," He threw her a smile. "You're okay, I'm okay, that's something, right?"

"Right." she muttered, and the smile she offered in return was a much less optimistic one.

Danielle didn't expect anything ahead of them to go well, in fact, she was expecting Sam to say no to them, automatic. She expected Dean to get pissed, and she expected nothing less than the three of them to grow more apart than they already had.

* * *

 _Four Years Ago — Cincinnati, Ohio — 11:23 PM._

Danielle felt the presence of someone standing beside her, and she didn't have to look up to know that it was Dean.

"Maybe you should go upstairs." he suggested. His voice was low enough that only she heard him say it, and there was a concerned frown on his face, apprehensive. "I can see this getting ugly."

But Danielle shook her head, the way he knew that she would do. She glanced between Sam and her dad, and she couldn't decide which of them looked more homicidal. There was a lethal glare on both of their faces, unforgiving, and they all knew that there would be no coming back from what was about to happen there.

John shook his head at his youngest child, and he was only getting more and more angry with each second that passed.

"Who the _hell_ do you think you are?!" he thundered, accusing.

In all the years they had spent hunting together, none of them had ever seen him get so mad, about anything. The anger radiated from him, and there was a vein in his temple that thumped against his skull.

But the man who stood before him didn't appear phased. "No, Dad, who the hell do you think you are?!" Sam countered, and his tone matched his father's easily. "What do you think gives you the right to treat us the way you do? Why do you think you get to control us like you do?!" he yelled in his face, and his tall frame seemed to tower over him. "You pushed me into this life, all I'm doing is leaving it."

But John wasn't prepared to back down, and he stepped closer to his son. "Yeah." he agreed, his tone cold, unforgiving. "As well as your family."

Sam scoffed at that comment. If anything, he seemed amused. " _Family_?" He nodded, incredulous. "You're one to talk about family, Dad. Look at what you've done to yours."

John blinked, hard, and it was clear that the comment had taken him by surprise. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he seethed, and his face dared him to justify his comment.

"You really think that this is what we wanted?" He stepped even closer to his father, and only inches separated them now. "What about Danielle? She's twenty years old, Dad. Twenty. Are you really going to let her do this for the rest of her life? You're seriously going to let her and Dean get themselves killed over this stupid job? What kind of father are you?!"

Danielle scoffed, and she toyed with the idea of saying something. There was a certain level that she wouldn't take, and being dragged into a fight that was nothing to do with her was something she couldn't stand, but she let it go. She said nothing. Because, frankly, the last place she wanted to be was caught in the middle of one of Dad and Sam's arguments. She had seen Dean get into that position before, and it never ended well. For anyone. There was no talking them down when they were so riled up at each other, it was pointless to try. They all knew it.

"Don't bring your brother and sister into this." John snapped.

"And what about Mom?" Sam pushed. "You think that this is the life she would have wanted for us? What do you think she'd say if she could see us now? If she could see how we'd turned out?!"

Danielle closed her eyes and she took a short breath, because things were getting way out of hand. Fast. She felt Dean's arm tighten around her at the mention of their mother, and his fingertips were digging into her ribs slightly.

"Don't you _dare_ , Sam." John warned him, furious. His tone was low, livid.

It was at that point that Sam seemed to realize that he'd crossed a line, but he said nothing about it, he simply shook his head. "I'm done with this." he stated, blunt. "You are not controlling me anymore." He took a step back and just stared at him for a long moment, but the deep frown on his face never faded.

"You walk out that door, Sam, don't you ever come back." he warned. This time, he looked serious, and they all knew there that he wasn't kidding around anymore. It wasn't something he had said in anger, he meant it.

Sam shrugged, but there was a look on his face that proved the words had hurt. But he didn't comment, he simply reached down and picked up his bags and he offered him one last look. "I'm out of here." he muttered. He stormed towards the front door of the motel, but something stopped him. He paused, and he turned to his siblings. "If you two had any sense you'd both do the same."

He gave one last look to his family before he turned and left the room. The door slammed closed behind him, and the sound left them all in a tense silence.

No one spoke. No one breathed. No one dared to.

Danielle glanced towards their father, and she shook her head slowly. She loved him, she did, but there was no denying that this time he had taken things too far. She understood why he had gotten mad, and she wasn't prepared to make excuses for anything that Sam had said to him, but she couldn't believe that he was really going to stand there so calmly and let his son walk away forever without making any attempt to stop him. She pulled herself free of Dean's hold and made a move towards the door after her brother.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" John called after her, and there was a distinct fear to his words that came through the anger, as though he thought that she was about to leave them, too.

Danielle simply glared at him, but she didn't have the guts to look at her brother, and she walked out of the room.

Sam was standing on the side of the parking lot, and it was clear that he was waiting for his cab. She stopped for a moment and looked on at him, and it occurred to her how wrong everything just seemed to be with their family. It wasn't fair. Most teenagers in his position would have spent their last few minutes with their families, they would be told that they were going to be missed, that their parents were nothing but proud of them, Sam didn't get that. Sam never would.

"Hey." she called towards him, and the sound made him jump. "You just gonna leave without saying goodbye?"

Sam's face softened as she approached, and there was a look of sorrow in his eyes. "Dan, I'm sorry." he told her, and he sighed. "I didn't think it'd get so..." He paused, and he shook his head. "Out of hand."

Danielle shook her head, as if to say that it didn't matter anymore. "I'm not angry, Sam." she stated. Her voice was soft, forgiving, and everything that their dad's hadn't been. "I'm gonna miss you."

Sam nodded, and the smallest smile came to his face. He took a short step towards her and pulled her into a hug. Tears built up in her eyes, because she knew that it was the last time they were going to see each other for a long, long while.

"Me, too." Sam said, and his arms tightened around her. She was so small in his arms, and there had been a time when there hadn't been much of a height difference between them. He pulled back to face her, and he smiled. "Look after yourself, sis."

Danielle nodded. "You better stay in touch, you hear me?"

"Promise." He glanced back as a cab pulled up across the street, and he looked back to her, apologetic. "I gotta go."

Danielle took a step back from him. "Bye, Sammy." She offered a smile. "Good luck."

* * *

 _Palo Alto, California — Stanford — 02:43 AM._

"Danielle."

There was a deep voice calling her name, and whoever it was sounded as though they were off in the distance somewhere. She couldn't quite make out where.

"Dani."

They spoke it again, this time a little louder, and she felt someone run a hand through the front of her hair. Their touch was gentle, and the blonde locks were brushed from her face.

" _Danielle_!"

This time it was a yell, and all aspects of softness and patience were gone. She startled awake at the sound, and her forehead almost collided with Dean's as she shot up.

" _What_?" she muttered, annoyed.

It was dark outside, and it occurred to her at she didn't even remember falling asleep. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and looked out of the window ahead. Dean had stopped driving, but, where they were, she didn't know. She frowned and straightened herself in her seat, and Dean's leather jacket fell off her as she did. She smiled a little, because it had obviously been him who had draped it over her while she had been sleeping. For all the front he put on, it was the little things he did that proved how much he cared.

"We're here." he stated, and he nodded over towards the block of apartments before them. It crossed her mind to ask him how he even knew where their brother lived, but she decided against it. "What were you dreaming about, anyway?"

Danielle frowned at him, and she was still slightly disorientated from sleep. "What?"

"You were mumbling in your sleep." he told her, and the concern came through in his words. "Everything alright?"

Danielle's mind wandered back to the dream she'd had, and she shook her head. It had been about that night, the one where Sam had walked out. It wasn't a conversation that she wanted to get into, especially not there. Not when they were about to face him again after so long apart.

"It's fine, Dean." she offered. "I'm good."

But Dean seemed skeptical about her response.

"Why are we here at this time, anyway?" she asked him, before he had the chance to say anything more about it. It was a clear attempt at changing the subject, but he didn't comment. "Shouldn't we have gotten a motel and called back at a more, I don't know, _human_ time? No one's gonna be up at this time."

Dean simply rolled his eyes at her, and she didn't miss the smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth. "You're so cute." he remarked. He climbed from the car and slammed the door closed behind himself.

Danielle heaved a sigh and followed his lead, because what more could she do at that point? She was more than content with allowing him to take the lead on this one, because, honestly, she wanted no part of it. She headed towards the building, but she realized that he wasn't following. He was headed in the opposite direction.

"Dude," she called. "What are you doing? The door's this way."

Dean chuckled, and his response was simple. "Like you said, it's almost three in the morning, everyone's gonna be asleep."

"Yeah, which is why we go and knock on his door, not break into his place like you're obviously planning on doing." she reasoned, but her protests seemed to fall upon deaf ears and he continued on his way.

"Come on, Dani," He threw her a grin. "Where's the fun in knocking on the door?"

Danielle shook her head in defeat, and, reluctant, she followed. "Fine." she muttered. "But, if he kills us, it's on _you_."

"You say that so much, Dan, it's lost _all_ meaning." he remarked. "When have I ever pitched us a bad plan?"

She shot him a look, incredulous. "Do you really want an honest answer to that?"

Dean chuckled, and he nodded at her to follow him over the parking lot towards the back of the building.

Danielle wasn't ready for this. At all. Her mind once again drifted back to that night four years ago, the one when he had walked out. It was a night they had promised they would always be fine, that nothing would change. But nothing since then had been fine between them. It had been about as far from fine as they could have gotten. Things _had_ changed between them, between all of them. That night had been the point that everything had gone downhill between them and Sam. They hadn't known it at the time, but the promises of staying in touch and always being there for each other were never destined to last. They were drifting apart even back then, and they hadn't even realized it. Every step that Sam had taken towards college and every step that Dean and Danielle had taken towards hunting had been a step away from each other. It had been tearing them apart, and they had never noticed until that night. Since then, it had been Dean and Danielle against the world.

"Relax." Dean muttered. "You're over-thinking this."

Danielle looked to him, confused, and raised an eyebrow. "What?"

They climbed the metal stairs at the back of the building, and she had to trust that he knew which room he was headed to.

"You're thinking too much." he told her again, and he glanced back as she followed him. "Just, chill out. Whatever happens, happens."

Dean came to a stop outside of a window, and he shrugged at her. It was now or never. The window was open in a matter of seconds, and he climbed through it first. The room they stepped into was dark, and it was hard to see anything in front of them.

Dean headed further inside, as though he actually had some idea of what he was doing, but Danielle didn't move from where she stood beside the window. There was a distinct bang from somewhere ahead of her, and she heard Dean swear under his breath.

"Really, Dean?" she hissed. "Why couldn't we just knock on the door."

"You, shut up." he threw back. "Maybe help me find a light-switch instead of just standing there looking pretty."

Danielle opened her mouth to respond, but she stopped. There was a dark figure standing in the doorway, and she knew that it wasn't Dean. Her stomach dropped. They moved fast, faster than she could anticipate, and they grabbed a firm hold of Dean by the shoulders from behind. It was an attack that was easily blocked by the eldest Winchester. He turned and shoved the man hard in the chest, and the taller man went still as Dean moved through a strip of light that came from the window. Dean took full advantage of that and had him on the floor in a matter of seconds, pinned beneath him.

"Whoa, easy, tiger." Dean remarked, and there was a cocky grin on his face.

Sam frowned up at him, and there was nothing but confusion etched into his features. " _Dean_?!" he breathed out, and Dean could have laughed at the level of shock that came through in his words. "You scared the crap out of me."

"That's 'cause you're out of practice." Dean quipped.

Sam huffed at him, maybe in annoyance, maybe in amusement, before he grabbed a firm hold of his brother. The heel of his foot slammed down into his spine, and he easily flipped them over and pinned his elder brother to the floor, smug.

"Or not." Dean muttered, and he sounded mildly surprised. "Get off me."

Sam rolled off him, and he pulled Dean up with him to stand. They stood and stared at each other for a long moment, and nothing was said. For a moment, Dean was more surprised than anything. His brother looked exactly the same as he had done when he had left that night. He was just bigger. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting to find there, but the thought that his brother was still the same was somewhat comforting. Maybe it meant that things hadn't changed as much between them as his sister seemed to think. Or maybe that was a naive idea to have.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Sam asked, and there was a frown on his face that proved he wasn't in the mood to mess around.

"Well," Dean shrugged, and a smile cracked at his lips. "We were looking for a beer."

" _We_?" That seemed to take Sam by surprise, and Dean noted the change in his face. There was only one person that he could have been referring to. "Where—" But he stopped as his eyes fell to the girl standing behind his brother. "Danielle."

Danielle nodded in way of acknowledgement. "Sam."

There was no emotion in her voice, at all, and all Sam could do was stare at her for a long moment. The girl who stood there looked nothing like the girl he had said goodbye to four years ago. Through the dim light that shone through the open window, he barely recognized the girl who stood before him. She looked so much older. So much had changed in her and he couldn't even put his finger on what it was. He had to wonder just how much he had missed out on while he had been gone.

But the frown quickly returned to his face, and he tore his eyes away from his sister. "What the hell are you doing here?" he asked again, and he clearly hadn't been satisfied with the answer he had gotten the first time.

"Okay," Dean held up his hands as if to tell him to calm down. "Alright, we've gotta talk."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Uh, the phone?" he pushed, sarcastic.

Danielle scoffed behind them, and both Sam and Dean glanced towards her at the sound. Sam looked nothing but confused, as if he didn't understand what the issue could be, and that only annoyed her more. It wasn't even the fact that he had ignored so many phone calls from them, it was as though he couldn't even remember doing it, as though it had meant nothing to him at the time.

"And, if we'd have called, would you have picked up?" Dean asked him pointedly.

Before Sam had the chance to answer, before he even had time to think up a response, the light flicked on above them, and they all turned towards the girl who now stood in the doorway to the room.

"Sam?" she pressed, and there was a small frown on her face, curious.

"Jess, hey." Sam seemed mildly surprised, or maybe it was that he had been caught out in something he didn't want her to see, and he cleared his throat, awkward. "Uh, Dean, Danielle, this is my girlfriend, Jessica." he introduced her.

Danielle offered a soft smile, somewhat apologetic to the fact that they had crashed into their home at such an unreasonable time, but Dean didn't seem at all concerned about that. He threw an appreciative nod in her direction, and a grin formed on his face.

"Wait, your brother and sister?" Jess smiled brightly as she looked between them, and she stepped further into the room.

Sam gave a slow nod, anything but happy about it, and Dean took a step further towards her. The grin only seemed to widen on his face as he looked her over slowly, and the small pajamas she wore did nothing to halt his smirk.

He gestured towards her tight t-shirt, and he nodded. "I love the smurfs." he commented, and his tone was playful. "You know, I gotta tell you... you are completely out of my brother's league."

Danielle rolled her eyes at the complete lack of shame in flirting so mercilessly with his brother's girlfriend. But Sam looked a lot less amused than anyone else.

Jess chuckled, as though nervous, and she glanced between him and Sam. "Just, let me put something on."

"No, no, no, I wouldn't dream of it." Dean quipped. "Seriously." He turned back towards Sam, but his eyes never left her. "Anyway, we gotta borrow your boyfriend here, talk about some private family stuff, but, uh, nice meeting you."

Sam looked up at that, and he appeared to be getting more and more annoyed by the second. "No." he stated, blunt. His gaze flickered between him and Danielle slowly. "No, whatever you want to say, you can say it in front of her." He moved to stand beside her, and his arm wrapped around her shoulders, as if to prove a point.

Dean glanced back towards his sister, and he raised an eyebrow as if to ask her for some kind of help. But all she could do was shrug, and it was a clear indication that he was on his own. He turned back to their brother, and his face suggested that he knew Sam to be being difficult just for the sake of it. Maybe he wasn't even surprised.

"Uh, okay." Dean nodded. "Dad hasn't been home in a few days." he stated simply, and his eyes fixed to Sam to pin any kind of reaction.

There wasn't one. Sam didn't appear at all phased by the comment, and his expression remained stony. "Yeah, he hasn't been home in a few days more than once before." he muttered, impassive. "He'll stumble back in sooner or later."

Danielle shook her head at him, incredulous, and Sam didn't miss it. Four years and he was still butting heads with their dad. And she was done with it. She stepped forwards, and her face was serious. "Sam, Dad's on a hunting trip." she clarified, earnest. "And he hasn't been home in a few days."

Sam's expression completely changed at that, and he looked between the two of them slowly. "Jess, excuse us." he muttered, but his attention never left his siblings. He didn't look happy. "We have to go outside."

Danielle and Dean shared a look between themselves, and it was clear that they were about as lost as each other with the statement. They followed Sam's lead as he headed out of the room towards the door, and he pulled it open forcefully. They followed him down the hallway, and towards a flight of stairs. Danielle dropped to the back, because she had absolutely no desire to be the one to have this argument with Sam, but Dean looked more than prepared for it.

They came to the bottom of the stairs, and Sam pushed though the doors to the street. He rounded on them before they had chance to process much of anything. "Alright, whatever this is, it's not gonna happen." he snapped.

Dean shook his head, incredulous. "Sam—"

"No." Sam stopped him. "I mean, come on, you can't just break in, middle of the night, and expect me to hit the road with you."

"You're not hearing me, Sam." Dean countered. "Dad's _missing_. We need you to help us find him."

Sam scoffed. "You remember the poltergeist in Amherst?" he pushed. "Or the Devil's Gates in Clifton? He was missing then, too. He's _always_ missing, and he's _always_ fine."

"Yeah, well, not for this long." he countered. "It's been weeks, Sam. So, are you gonna come with us, or not?"

Sam narrowed his eyes, and he seemed to consider the idea. It wasn't like their dad to go off for so long without a phone call to say that he was alive, at least. And Dean knew that their brother had to know that somewhere deep down.

But Sam shook his head. "I'm not."

Dean's brow furrowed. "Why not?"

"I swore that I was done hunting, Dean." he rebuked. "For good."

"Oh, come on, Sam." he challenged. "It wasn't easy, but it wasn't that bad."

Sam huffed, as though the thought of it not being that bad amused him. "When I told dad that I was scared of the thing in my closet he gave me a forty-five."

Danielle scoffed. The amount of times that she had heard that same statement from her brother was ridiculous. She could have given over a hundred different responses to it by now, but she remained silent.

"Well, what was he supposed to do?" Dean retorted.

"I was nine years old!" Sam pushed. "He was supposed to say, don't be afraid of the dark."

"Don't be afraid of the dark?" Dean repeated, a note of disbelief in his tone. "Are you kidding me? Of course you should be afraid of the dark. You know what's out there."

"Yeah, I know, but still. The way we grew up, after Mom was killed, and Dad's _obsession_ to find the thing that killed her. It wasn't right."

Dean turned from him, and he looked out over the street for a moment. That was an argument that he refused to get into.

"And, you know, we still haven't found the damn thing. So we kill everything we can find."

Dean nodded in way of agreement. "We save a lot of people doing it, too." he stated.

Sam paused, and he shook his head. "And, what about Danielle? Hm?"

Danielle raised an eyebrow. It was like he had only just remembered that she was with them, so, naturally, what was the first thing he did? He used her as an argument. He wasn't making it any easier for her to let go of everything that had happened. At that point, a part of her wanted nothing more than to call it a loss and drag Dean back to the Impala.

"What about Danielle?" Dean challenged, defensive.

"Do you really think that the way we grew up was healthy for her?" he pushed. "For any of us? Dean, we were _brainwashed_ into this life."

"There is _nothing_ wrong with Danielle." he told him, blunt, and his tone came across a little more forceful than necessary. "And, for the record, none of us were brainwashed. Dani and I _chose_ this life."

"You think that mom would have wanted this for us?" he went on, and he wasn't backing down, that was clear. "The weapons training, and melting silver into bullets? Man, Dean, we were raised like warriors."

"So, what are you gonna do?" he pushed, and his tone matched Sam's easily. "What, just live some normal apple-pie life? Is that it?"

"No," Sam shook his head. "Not normal. Safe."

"And that's why you ran away." Dean concluded. He nodded his head to himself slowly. "Wow."

"I was just going to college." Sam argued, defensive. "It was dad who said if I was gonna go I should stay gone. That's what I'm doing."

"Yeah, well, dad is in real trouble right now, if he's not dead already. I can feel it." he implored. "We can't do this alone."

Danielle shot him a look, and she once again considered the idea of finally getting involved. They all knew damn well that she and Dean could have done their job fine without their brother. They had done for years. But, once again, she kept her mouth shut, and she folded her arms over her chest, because she wasn't going to get involved. Not a chance.

"Yes, you can." Sam muttered.

"Yeah, well, we don't want to." he countered. His voice was quiet, as though it had taken a lot to admit that.

Dean refused to look anywhere near his sister at that comment, as though he didn't want to incite her to comment.

Sam's eyes flickered between them both. Danielle looked nowhere but the damp ground at her feet, because she knew that Sam wasn't stupid. He knew that statement meant one thing; Dean didn't want them doing it alone anymore, he didn't for a second believe that statement extended to her. He heaved a sigh, and he looked down for a moment.

Dean looked on at him, expectant, and raised his eyebrows.

"What was he hunting?" he eventually asked.

That comment seemed to perk Dean up a little, and a relived smile came to his face. He nodded at his brother to follow him to where the Impala was parked further into the lot, and Sam didn't argue. They approached the car, and Sam took the time to wonder just how long they had been driving around in it. When he had left, it had been their dad's pride and joy, so why had he given it up to them? Dean opened the trunk, and he pushed up the bottom of it to reveal the spare compartment beneath it. There were so many weapons in there he couldn't even take note. There was something in there to kill anything and everything that he had ever heard of. And then some.

"Alright, let's see..." Dean muttered, more to himself than either of them. "Hey, Dani, where did I put the thing.. with.. the thing..."

Danielle shot him a confused look, as though to ask how she was supposed to know what he was talking about. "Probably right next to your brain." she pondered, and he looked up to face her. "Oh, wait, now you'll never find it."

Dean narrowed his eyes, as if to say that he'd take her challenge, and the smallest smirk crossed his face. "Do you wanna go back in the trunk?" he asked her, and he offered her a smile. "Because I am more than happy to lock you back in there."

"You ever even think about putting me in that trunk again and I _will_ kill you." she retorted. "You almost went to prison for that."

Dean barked a laugh. "What, because one old lady called the cops and said she'd seen me carry you over the parking lot and lock you in a trunk?" he remarked. "Yeah, I don't think that one holds up in court, Dan."

"Hey, it could have been a kidnapping for all she knew." she snapped. "You probably scared that poor woman to death."

"No, you know what probably scared her to death? You screaming at the top of your lungs like you thought I was gonna murder you." he countered. "You've always been dramatic."

Danielle rolled her eyes at him. "Don't even talk to me." she huffed. "Or maybe you'll end up in the trunk. You know, if you and your ego can both fit in there."

"Oh, Dan," He shook his head. "You've never been funny."

"And you've never been observant." she countered, and he frowned. She pointed towards the tape recorder right in front of his face. "Like I said, you wouldn't survive a day without me, bro."

Sam glanced between them, but he didn't comment. There was something so natural about the way they bickered between each other, and it reminded him of how they had been when they had been teenagers. Honestly, he had missed it. And it was only now that he was realizing just how much he had truly missed being around them.

"So, when dad left, why didn't you go with him?" he asked, curious, and the question seemed to pull them back from their argument.

"We were working our own gig." Dean said lightly. "This, uh, voodoo thing. Down in New Orleans. You should have seen how Dani took down this witch. Man, it was impressive."

Sam raised an eyebrow, as though surprised. "Dad let you go on a hunting trip by yourselves?"

"I'm twenty-six, dude." he muttered. "And, besides, I'm perfectly capable of keeping Danielle alive. And, you know, she's not as useless as she looks." He chuckled. "We make a pretty good team. We've been taking more hunts without him lately. He's cool with it."

Sam frowned. "So, what makes you so sure that something is wrong?" he pushed. "Maybe he's just leaving you both to it."

Dean shook his head. "No, it's more than that." He pulled a folder from the trunk, and he took out the papers that were inside it. "Dad was checking out this two-lane black-top thing just outside of Jericho, California. About a month ago, this guy," He paused and handed one of the papers to Sam; a missing poster. "They found his car, but he'd vanished. Completely MIA."

Sam glanced down at the next paper Dean handed him, a printout of a newspaper article. _Centennial Highway Disappearance._ His eyes skimmed the article, barely reading more than he needed to, and he looked back to Dean.

"So, maybe he was kidnapped?" Sam suggested, and there wasn't an ounce of concern in his face.

"Yeah, well, here's another one in April." Dean tossed down another sheet of paper for each date he mentioned. "Another one in December 04, 03, 98, 92, ten of them over the past twenty years." He reached out and took the papers back from his brother before shoving them all back into the folder. "All men, all the same five mile stretch of road."

Sam narrowed his eyes, and he still didn't seem to be taking him seriously.

"Just, show him the tape, Dean." Danielle insisted, exasperated. "That'll make him understand."

Sam shot her a look, as if to ask her what the problem was. The tone she used wasn't one that he knew her to have. She sounded pissed, impatient, angry, and he noticed it was a tone she seemed to have reserved only for him, never for Dean.

But Dean continued before Sam had the chance to call her on it. "Anyway, it started happening more and more, so dad went to dig around. That was about three weeks ago, we hadn't heard anything from him since. Which was bad enough. Then, yesterday, I get this voicemail." He took the tape recorder that Danielle had pointed out to him and pressed play.

The message that played through the speakers was muffled, static, and it gave Danielle chills every time she heard it.

"Dean," Their dad's voice came through the speakers. It didn't sound like him. He sounded concerned, worried, maybe even afraid. There was no confidence to the strong voice they were all so accustomed to. "Something big is starting to happen... I need to try and figure out what's going on... it may... I... look out for your sister... be very careful... both of you... we're all in danger..."

Dean glanced towards his brother as he stopped the tape, and there was an expectant frown on his face.

"You know there's EVP on that, right?" he stated.

"Not bad, Sammy," Dean quipped. "Kinda like riding a bike, isn't it?"

Sam simply shook his head, and it was clear that he wasn't prepared to start joking around with them.

"Alright," Dean caved. "So, we slowed the message down, ran it through a gold wave, took the hiss out, and this is what we got."

He pressed the play button again, and this time the sound of a woman's voice came through. _"I can never go home."_ It was an eerie whisper, like something out of a horror movie.

"Never go home." Sam pondered.

Dean dropped the tape recorder back into the trunk of the car, and he slammed it closed. He turned to lean again the edge, and Danielle did the same. Suddenly, Sam felt as though he was being spotlighted. Their expressions matched each other's perfectly, the way they sat, arms folded over their chests and heads tilted slightly to one side, mirrored the others without fault. They each raised an eyebrow at him, the same one. He had to wonder how unintentional it really was. If he hadn't known better, he would have said that it was a rehearsed gimmick.

"You know," Dean looked up at him. "Four years, Sam, we've never bothered you, we've never asked you for a thing. We need help."

Sam looked away from them both, and his eyes were fixed to the ground. "Alright," He sighed. "I'll go." There was a clear reluctance to his tone that neither of them missed. "I'll help you find him. But I gotta be back first thing Monday. Just... Wait here."

Dean frowned as he turned away from them. "What's first thing Monday?" he called.

Sam turned back to them at the question. "I have this," He paused, and he shrugged, as though awkward. "I have an interview."

"What, a job interview?" Dean shrugged it off. "Skip it."

"It's a law school interview." he rebuked. "And it's my whole future on a plate."

"Law school?" Dean raised an eyebrow, and a smirk came to his face.

But Sam ignored him. "We got a deal, or not?"

Dean didn't answer him, and they seemed to continued their conversation without words for a moment. Sam eventually took a step back, and he headed back towards the building before them.

"I can't believe that you're doing this." Danielle muttered, and she pushed herself up from the trunk.

Dean frowned at her, and he watched as she climbed into the passenger side of the car. Was she really pissed at him? Already? He wasn't even sure what he had done. Curious, he moved from where he sat and climbed into the car beside her.

"I'll bite." he remarked. "You can't believe I'm doing what?"

"You know what." she muttered, but he didn't appear to be following. "You can't just drag him back into this. He doesn't want it."

"Look, Dani," He sighed. "I get that you're still mad at him, but—"

"How I feel about Sam right now has nothing to do with this." she stopped him, abrupt. "He got out of this life once, we shouldn't be here to drag him back into it. It's not fair."

Dean shook his head. "Like he said, he's back Monday." he offered. "It's just a weekend."

"It's never just a weekend, Dean." she countered, and her tone was low. "You know that just as well as I do."

Dean sighed, and he chose not to answer that.

Danielle shook her head at him, and she looked away. None of this was fair. She looked over towards the apartments, and she knew that Sam was up there more than likely lying to his girlfriend about where he was going, about what was really going on with their dad. That wasn't fair, either. He had walked away once, and he was happy, or, at least, he seemed to be. If something went wrong, if anything happened between now and Monday, Sam was never going to forgive them. And, more than that, they would never forgive themselves. She had the darkest feeling, something was going to happen. And it wasn't going to end well.

"Dan?" Dean glanced towards her when she said nothing. "Look, we'll get through this weekend, alright?" His voice was soft, apologetic. "You and me. We'll get through it, we'll find dad, we'll take Sam home, and he'll be safe. Before you know it we'll be right back to hunting together and living our lives. It's just a weekend."

Danielle nodded, but there wasn't much confidence behind it. "I'll hold you to that." she muttered.

It was going to be an interesting couple of days.


	2. Back On The Job

_Is it too early for an update? We were on such a roll with the story that we've already finished another chapter of it, even though it's only been a day we just had to post!_

 _Thank you for reading the last chapter, I hope you liked it._

 _Hope you enjoy this one!_

* * *

 **Danielle Winchester**

 **Chapter Two: Back On The Job**

 _California — Highway — Impala — 10:12 AM._

Honestly, the whole thing had been nothing but awkward from the jump.

The three of them sat in the Impala, and none of them really wanted to be the first to speak.

Sam and Dean were saying nothing more to each other than what was absolutely necessary. They talked about Jericho, about the job they were taking, about dad, but not once had Dean asked his brother about college or about his girlfriend, he hadn't mentioned his life since he had left them, and, in truth, that night was a conversation he didn't want to go anywhere near. Not once had Sam asked about either of them, about hunting, about what they had been doing over the past four years while he had been away. And not once had Danielle made any attempt to change that. The truth of it was, she didn't want to be involved in anything that was going on around her. If she could have faded away into the leather seat behind her she would have done it, gladly.

Danielle just couldn't bring herself to understand why, after so much time had passed by, after so many years, after every single call that Sam had ignored, not missed, calls that he had seen and blatantly chosen not to answer, why should she be the one to make yet another attempt at keeping their family together? Why did it always have to be her job to do that? This time, she wasn't going to try. Because why should she, once again, be the one to fix the mess that his choices had left them? She had spent so long defending him in the weeks after he had walked away, and where had it gotten her? She had made excuse after excuse for him to Dean and their dad, she had tried to tell them that he needed space, that he was doing what was best for him, that he would call when he was ready, but he had proved her wrong. She was done with it. Completely. And so, she sat back in her seat, headphones in as if to pretend that none of it was even happening. For a moment, she was content with that idea.

Dean wished that he had that option, because he was starting to think that she had been right all along. Maybe going to get their brother had been a bad idea on his part. Dean missed his brother, and he wasn't going to deny that, but there was something different now that he was back. He wasn't sure what he had expected to happen, whether he thought that the three of them would just fall right back into the way they had once been, but he had never felt more uncomfortable than he did in that moment. The silence was uncomfortable, awkward, and everything he never could have imagined it would be between the three of them. He pressed his boot down harder on the gas, and he willed his car to get them to Jericho faster, just so that they could be out of there.

"What's up with Danielle, anyway?" Sam suddenly asked him, and he was the first of them to break the silence in miles.

The question took the eldest Winchester by surprise, and he looked to his brother with a frown, confused. "What does that mean?" he asked, maybe a little too defensive. "There's nothing up with Danielle. Why would there be?"

Sam shook his head, and, admittedly, he was a little taken aback by his tone. "I don't know." he muttered, nonchalant. "She just seems," He paused, as though to search for the right word. "Different."

"Well, it doesn't help that you keep staring at her like you do." he commented simply. "I mean, you're looking at her like you're looking at a ghost or something. It's creepy."

Sam purposely looked away from him at that remark. He hadn't even noticed. Had he been staring at her? Danielle was different, she looked nothing like the girl he had known four years ago. She was older, but it was more than that. What had once been long and wavy hair was now straightened and a shade lighter. Her make up that had once been so typical of a teenage girl her age was much more subtle. Even the way she dressed had changed. Now, she dressed like Dean, like their dad. She wore black jeans and a white vest, matched with a blue plaid shirt and a pair of scuffed boots. That had never been her style before. In fact, he couldn't once remember her wearing a plaid shirt as a teenager. Was this supposed to be her new hunter look? Because he sure as hell didn't recognize it. Her pale skin was now tanned, and her once perfectly manicured nails were painted with chipped black polish.

But it was more than just the way she looked. It was everything else. It was her attitude, her mannerisms, her expressions.

"She's different." Sam concluded, and there was a little more confidence behind his words this time. "Why is she so pissed that I'm here? I mean, it was you two who dragged me back into this. What's wrong with her?"

Dean scoffed, and he shook his head. Wasn't Sam supposed to be the smart one in the car? He didn't understand how sometimes he could be so blind, so naive. He wasn't convinced for a second that Sam thought the idea of going to get him had come from anybody but him, because Danielle had made it more than clear from the moment they set foot in his apartment that she couldn't have cared less. She wasn't scared to show him her anger, to show him that she was still hurt, and he knew that, deep down, Sam had to know that.

"It has been four years, Sam." he stated simply, and his voice remained calm, emotionless. "She's grown up a lot since you left. I mean, she's not a teenager anymore. She's twenty-four. Are you telling me that you haven't changed at all since you've been away? That doesn't mean that there's anything wrong with her."

Sam opened and closed his mouth, and it was clear that he was struggling for a response.

Dean offered him a shrug. "Look, things have changed, Sam." he muttered. "Whatever way you want to look at it. But she hasn't." He glanced back at her through the rear view mirror. "She's still the same girl she's always been."

The two of them fell back into a silence, and Sam thought on his brother's words for a moment. He looked over his shoulder to Danielle, and her attention was anywhere but on her brothers. She seemed lost in her own world of thoughts. Her green eyes were fixed on the blur of trees beside the highway as they shot past them, and one of her knees was pulled up to her chest. Her head nodded slightly to the music that played through her headphones, and it crossed his mind that he didn't even know what kind of music she listened to anymore. Was it still the same taste as Dean's, or had it changed over the years? It occurred to him, he didn't know his brother and sister anymore, not the way he had done before he had left. Somewhere, that hurt, more than he wanted to let on.

"You still call her Dani." he noted, and he looked back to Dean. "She used to hate that."

Sam didn't miss the fond smile that tugged at the corner of Dean's mouth at the comment.

"Yeah, well, there's only so long you can fight these things." he said, amused. "She learned to live with it. There came a point she just gave up on telling me not to. She doesn't take it from anyone else, though. Not a chance."

There was a gas station up ahead, and Dean pulled the Impala to the left. He cruised the car to a stop beside the pumps, and he turned off the engine. He turned in his seat and reached behind him, and he yanked the headphones from his sister's ears.

"I suppose you want something nutritious for breakfast?" he pressed, and there was a smirk on his face that challenged her glare.

But she cracked a smile. "Anything with chocolate." she confirmed. "I don't really care what."

"Same old." He rolled his eyes. "Make yourself useful, sis. Fill the car up, would ya?"

Danielle nodded, and she made a move to get out of the car with him. She stretched her aching muscles, because she had honestly forgotten just how cramped the back seat of the Impala was, it had been a long time since she had been in there. She watched as Dean stalked towards the store, and she reached for the gas pump. She was aware that Sam was watching her from the other side of the car, as though he was toying with the idea of saying something, but she just couldn't bring herself to face him. She didn't know what to say, how to react, because, truthfully, she wasn't sure how she felt about him at that point. Was she even in a place to still be angry with him? Four years had passed, maybe it was time she let it all go? But, he had hurt her, more than he seemed to realize, so why shouldn't he be aware of that? Why shouldn't she make him understand that?

Sam seemed to note that she wasn't in the mood to talk to him, and he appeared to let go of whatever comment or question he had been considering. He sat back down in the passenger seat of the car, but the door remained open, and he didn't quite get inside. His feet remained firmly on the gravel beneath the car, his elbow rested on his knee, and his forehead was placed against his palm.

The thing that upset Danielle more than anything else was the fact that he didn't seem aware of how much he had hurt them by cutting them out of his life the way he had. It had killed her every time she had called and he hadn't answered, and it hurt to think that he truly hadn't wanted to speak to either of them. After everything they had been through together, it seemed harsh. The three of them had only had each other for eighteen years of their lives, and, suddenly, it had been as though that had meant absolutely nothing to him. She understood his decision to leave, she could even understand why he had been so angry that night, hell, she would go far enough to say that she understood why he needed the space from them all, but four years? It was a long time. And he didn't even seem aware. It was as though he had walked right back into their lives and assumed that she was the one with the problem. Something about it all just made her not want to try, because, deep down, she knew that he was just going to leave again. And maybe it was that she didn't want to be the one who got rejected, again. It had been bad enough the first time. Why should she face it again?

"Hey, Danielle?"

The voice came from behind her, and it was evident that Sam had reconsidered his decision not to try. She groaned inwardly. He sounded apprehensive, as though he was unsure that he would even get an answer.

Danielle sighed, defeated, because, no matter how she felt, she wouldn't stoop low enough to blatantly ignore him. Maybe keeping up the pissed off act wasn't worth it anymore. She glanced back, but she didn't move from where she stood beside the gas pump.

"Yeah, Sam?" she pressed, but there was no emotion in her words. She remained blank.

Sam cleared his throat, and he shifted his weight, as though uncomfortable. "Look," He sighed. "I think we need to talk."

Danielle looked away from him, because she had known it was coming; the excuses, the lame apology, everything that she didn't want to hear. She already knew what he was going to say to her. He was going to tell her that he was sorry, that he had never wanted to cut them out of his life, that it was about their dad and not about them, it was about him wanting to be away from hunting. But did that change anything? Did that change what he had done? Not to her.

But there was only so long that she was going to be able to avoid hearing it, and so she pulled the pump from the car and almost slammed it back against the holder. The force of her action took even her by surprise.

"Sam, I—" But she stopped.

A part of her was nothing but relived at the sound of her phone ringing from the back pocket of her jeans, because it came as a welcome distraction between them and the heavy silence. But, the same as always, she tensed at the sound. There was always the hope that it was going to be their dad. She wanted it to be him, more than anything, because, honestly, she was afraid of what had happened to him. She pulled it out and looked to the caller ID; Bobby.

"Hold that thought," she muttered. "I gotta take this."

Sam nodded, because what more could he do at that point? He wasn't in a position to argue with her. She turned her back to him and walked away as she answered the call, and he had to wonder just who she was talking to. As far as he had known the two of them hadn't had any friends, and he was more than certain it couldn't be their father. Did they have new people in their lives, people who knew about what they did for a living? Or was it someone he knew, someone he hadn't spoken to or heard from since he had left?

"Hey." Dean's voice pulled him back from his thoughts, and he turned. "You want breakfast?"

Dean headed towards him, and the smallest smile crossed his face. His brother held a large paper bag under his left arm, and it was filled with nothing but junk food. He hadn't changed. He waved a bag of chips in his direction, as if to tempt him.

"I'm good." Sam offered. "Thanks."

Dean shrugged it off, as though it didn't bother him either way, and he headed around to the other side of the car. He dropped the bag of food through the open window to the back seat before he took a seat behind the wheel.

"How'd you pay for all that stuff?" Sam asked, curious. "The three of you still running credit card scams?"

Dean threw him a smirk, and he reached behind them for a bag of chips. "Well, hunting ain't exactly a pro ball career." he stated, unconcerned. "Besides, all we do is apply for the cards, it's not our fault they actually send them to us."

"Yeah?" Sam raised an eyebrow. "And, uh, what names did you put on the application this time?"

Dean chuckled. "Burt Aframian, and his son, Hector. Scored two cards out of the deal."

There was a pride in his voice that Sam didn't miss, and he gave a faint smile.

Dean stuffed a few chips into his mouth, and he nodded towards Danielle. "Who's she talking to, anyway?"

Sam followed his gaze towards her. She stood a few feet away from them, way out of earshot, but within shouting distance. He had to wonder if that was intentional. Was she talking about something she didn't want him to hear? She paced around slowly, still talking on the phone, and one of her hands was rested to her hip.

"I don't know." he offered, despondent. "She never said."

A soft sigh escaped him, and he couldn't help the wistful feeling that washed over him. He missed the way that things had once been between the three of them. So much had changed since the last time they had been together, and a part of him felt as though he was sitting in a car with two strangers rather than the siblings who had once been more like his best friends. The two people who sat with him were the people who had all but raised him, and he didn't know a thing about them anymore.

"How long is she gonna stay pissed at me?" he asked, maybe more to himself than the man beside him. The question had left him before he had given any time to think it through.

Dean paused, mid bite, and looked over at her. He offered a shrug. "Come on, Sam. You can't really blame her." he muttered. "You might not wanna believe it, but you really hurt her."

His tone was calm, neutral, but Sam could hear him trying to keep any ounce of accusation from his words. He didn't want to make things any worse than they already were between them, and Sam was grateful for that. He couldn't take two of them giving him the cold shoulder, because one was more than enough.

"I know." Sam admitted, despondent. "And, I don't blame her. I just..." he trailed off, because he didn't know what to say. What could he say? "I didn't mean it to happen the way he did." he said softly, guilty. "I never meant for things to end up the way they did."

"I know. And, so does she." Dean assured. "She'll come around, Sam. You'll see. Dan can't hold a grudge to save her life."

Dean looked back to her, and then he glanced towards his watch. His eyebrows raised slightly, and he shook his head.

"I'll tell you one thing that hasn't changed. She still doesn't shut up." he remarked, and there was a fond smile on his face.

Sam could see it now more than ever, the two of them really were the best of friends these days. It showed in the way that they seemed to have conversations between themselves without the need for words. It showed in the way that they seemed to fall so easily into a routine, never questioning or even noticing that they were doing it. The faces they made were almost identical, their mannerisms and actions were so much alike.

Dean climbed from the car without a word and made his way towards her, his hands shoved in his pockets. He stood before her, eyebrows raised, and he pointed towards the watch on his wrist. Danielle cracked a smile as if to tell him that his warning meant nothing to her, and he chuckled. He watched her talk on the phone for a minute or so, but, Sam noticed, there was a smile on his face. Despite what he said, it was like he had all the patience in the world to wait for her. She handed him the phone with a smirk, and whoever it was had a quick talk with him before they ended the call. Danielle didn't even blink when he placed her phone into his own pocket, never thinking twice about it.

Sam gave a sigh as he watched them, and he felt a pang of jealousy sink in his chest. It was something that he never thought he could feel with the two of them, but he had never felt so on the outside with them before. He had lost any relationship he had ever built with them in his absence, but theirs only seemed to have grown stronger, deeper. He watched as Dean threw an arm around her neck from behind, and he held her in a headlock as he ruffled her hair affectionately. All Danielle could do in response was laugh, and she elbowed him in the stomach as he released his hold of her. She turned and called him some silly name that only widened the grin on his face, and he rolled his eyes at her, amused, as she pushed him playfully in the chest.

It had been a long time since Sam had seen anything like that. And, he remembered, fighting was something they had done so much when they had been teenagers. They hadn't changed. They were still the same people. And, in that moment, they looked happy. They looked happier than he had ever seen them look before. It occurred to him, they were free. All they had ever wanted to do was hunt, and that was what they were doing. They could go anywhere they desired, do anything they wanted, and there was no one to hold them back.

Dean and Danielle were living the lives they had always craved, and he understood that now. They had worked hard to get themselves there. While he had spent his teenage years doing his school work, they had been training to become the people were today. They had listened intently to anything their father had ever taught them. They had given it their all during the weapons training. They had spent hours learning to perfect their aims. They had taken the black eyes and bruised ribs that had come with learning to fight. They had studied their father's journal, and they had hung onto every word he had to say after a hunt. He had never been interested, but they had. They had always known that this was where they would end up. And the happiness was clear in their actions.

It was only then that he realized, as he watched them laugh and joke around with each other, just how much he had missed out on since he had left. He had never wanted to cut his family out of his life, that had never been the intention. He had never wanted them to feel as though he hadn't wanted to be with them, and he wasn't sure how it had all happened that way. It was like, the longer he had left it, the more time that had passed without him calling them back, the harder it had gotten to make that first move again. He knew right there that if he could have gone back he would have answered every single one of his sister's calls in a heartbeat. He would have called his brother and tried to explain his reasons for leaving hadn't been anything to do with him. But it was too late to go back and change things now. He had made the mess, and it was his fault that things had ended up the way they had.

Only he could fix things now. And he wanted to. More than anything. He wanted to make it right.

They were almost at the car, but Dean grabbed a hold of his sister's wrist before she could step any closer. He pulled her around to face him, and the action brought a frown to Sam's face as he watched. He couldn't hear them, but there was a serious look on his face.

Danielle raised an eyebrow at him. "What?" she pressed. "You really wanna fight?"

The question brought a smile to his face, and Dean sighed dramatically. "Danielle, if you and me were really gonna fight, you wouldn't look nearly as cocky." he countered, sarcastic. "I would _end_ you."

His sister snickered, as though amused by the idea. "Pretty confident, aren't you?" she challenged. But she noted the look on his face, and he clearly hadn't stopped her to make a joke. "What's up?"

Dean shook his head slowly, and he glanced over towards the car for a moment. "Look, Dan, I know this whole thing is kinda awkward, and I know you're really not thrilled about it, but, I don't know," He sighed. "How you holding up?"

"How am I holding up?" Her brow furrowed at the question, as though it had confused her. "I'm fine. Like you said, it's just a weekend. I think I can handle it. You worry too much."

Dean nodded, as if to say that he'd take that as an answer, even if he didn't look convinced. His sister was hurting, and it didn't take a mind reader to work that one out. There was no way that she couldn't be. And a part of him knew that it hadn't been fair to make her face their brother again after so long the way he had done. It hadn't been fair to drag him back into their lives and then force them to sit in a car together for hours. The drive had made him realize that. But, he wouldn't comment. If she said she was fine, he would believe her, even if he knew better.

"Okay." he muttered. "We better hit the road."

Sam's eyes were narrowed at them as they continued on their way towards the car, and he had to wonder what they had suddenly become so serious about in their short conversation. They had gone from laughing and play fighting to stone cold serious in seconds. Dean had looked concerned, maybe even worried, and he wasn't sure why. Maybe there was something going on that he didn't know about, maybe they had their secrets and things they didn't want him to know about, could he even be surprised if that was the case? He had been gone for far too long, there were probably things going on in their lives that he could never even hope to understand. They had more than likely been through things he couldn't even being to imagine.

It crossed his mind, had he made a different choice four years ago, had he answered those calls from his sister, maybe he would know. Maybe he wouldn't have been so on the outside. Maybe they could have stayed a part of his life. He didn't want them to be strangers. He wanted his sister to know Jess, because he knew that they'd get along. There had been times when Jess had said things to him and he had just thought about how his sister would have made the exact same joke. There was no doubt in his mind that they could have been the best of friends. He wanted his brother to know what was going on in his life. He wanted to know what they were doing, where they were going, because he didn't believe for a second that they didn't make trips out of their hunts. Without their dad, they would stop and see the sights, they would take days out and just be them, and he wanted to be able to share those moments. He wanted to hear about them, he wanted to be a part of their lives, for good. Maybe this was the weekend that could change that. Maybe, when it was all over, they didn't have to go their separate ways.

Dean climbed back behind the wheel, and Danielle returned to her place in the back seat, but neither of them said a word to him.

Sam's attention returned to the box of tapes on his lap, as though he could pretend that he hadn't been watching them intently.

His brother glanced between him and the box, and he raised an eyebrow, as if to ask him what he was doing.

Sam huffed. "Dean, man, you gotta update your cassette tape collection." he stated, and it was a lame attempt at breaking the silence that had once again fallen over the car.

But Dean only frowned at him, and he seemed genuinely confused. "Why?"

"Well, for one, they're cassette tapes." he remarked. "And, two, Black Sabbath?" He named the first tape he picked up at random. "Motorhead?" He named another. "Metallica?" He shook his head, and Dean snatched the tape from him before he could continue. "It's the greatest hits of the mullet rock."

Dean scoffed, as though offended, and he slotted the tape into the player as if to prove a point. "House rules, Sammy," he announced brightly. "Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake hole."

Sam huffed in annoyance. "You know, Sammy is a chubby twelve year old." he chided. "It's Sam."

Dean snickered, and he tossed the empty tape box carelessly over his shoulder. He heard it hit something. Instantly, he cringed.

"Ow!" Danielle whined, and she reached forwards and smacked him lightly around the back of the head. "What was that for?"

Dean turned, and the guilt was clear in his face despite the amusement. He bit back a laugh, and he held up his hands in way of an apology. "Dani, I'm sorry." he chuckled. "Not used to having anyone back there."

Danielle shook her head at him, and a smile tugged at her lips however much she tried to hide it. "You're an ass."

Dean smiled at her, genuinely smiled, and she threw him a pointed look, as if to tell him that it wasn't over. He expected nothing less. He turned his attention back to the wheel and started the car. The engine roared to life, and the music blared from the speakers.

There was a content smile on his face as he pulled out onto the highway, and something about the road ahead gave him a good feeling.

* * *

 _Impala — 30 Minutes Later — 11:06 AM._

Danielle glanced out of the window and she sighed deeply as they passed a sign that read, _'Jericho'._ She closed her eyes again, and she went back to trying to ignore Sam's voice as it sounded through the car. She had no idea who he was talking to, but his tone was serious, and the phone had been glued to his ear for the past fifteen minutes. She hadn't been paying much attention, it was just background noise to her now. She tried to blank any thoughts from her mind, because she craved the silence. She just wanted to sleep, or to get out of that car, anything, because he wasn't sure how much longer she could take sitting there.

Sam brought back the phone and shoved it into his jacket pocket with a sigh. "Well, there's no one matching dad's description at the hospital or morgue." he offered. "So that's something, I guess."

"Hey." Dean spoke up. "Check it out."

Danielle reluctantly opened her eyes again at the sound of his voice, and she sat up a little straighter. There was a bridge ahead of the car, and it was crawling with police. The Impala cruised to a stop, and the three of them sat there for a moment. The entrance was closed off with crime scene tape, and there was a car parked in the center of the road. The doors were wide open, and there were a couple of men speaking to each other over the roof of it. Whatever had happened there, it looked serious.

Dean reached across his brother and opened the glove compartment. He took out a box and opened it on his lap. There were dozens of fake ID cards inside, enough for both of them to get into anywhere they needed to, and Sam's eyebrows raised at the sight. Dean routed through them until he found what he was looking for, and he pulled out a couple. He held one over his shoulder towards her.

"Let's go." he said brightly, and he threw open the door as he climbed out of the car.

Sam looked between them, perplexed, but he followed.

Dean and Danielle took the lead, and they strode confidently towards the scene ahead. There was no hesitation, no need for planning, and he wondered how many times they had done that before. They didn't take the time to come up with a plan or story before, it was as though they didn't need to. They already knew exactly what they were doing, and how they were going to do it. This wasn't anything new to them, that much he could tell. He wondered how many hunts they had taken without their father.

The two men that stood on opposite sides of the car seemed too deep within their own conversation to notice much of anything else going on around them. "So, this kid Troy, he's dating your daughter?" One of them was saying, and the man opposite nodded. "How's Amy doing?"

The other officer shrugged. "She's putting up missing posters down town." he offered, despondent.

Dean approached the police officer closet, and he nodded. "You had another one like this just last month, didn't you?" he pressed. His voice was casual, calm, self-assured.

The officer looked him up and down slowly, brow furrowed, before he looked to Danielle, and then to Sam.

"And, who are you?" he asked, curious, accusing.

Dean and Danielle automatically held up their fake badges, as though it was nothing but effort for them. "Federal marshals." Danielle smiled.

But that only seemed to throw him further. He looked dubious. "You three are a little young for marshals, aren't you?"

Suspicion coated his words, and Sam was so sure that he wasn't buying anything the two of them were trying to sell.

But the confidence in their stance didn't falter, not one bit. Dean smiled at him. "Thanks. That's awfully kind of you." he replied, his tone light. "You did have another one just like this, correct?" he pushed, and they moved closer towards the car.

"Yeah, that's right." he muttered. "About a mile up the road. There's been others before that."

Danielle nodded, and she squinted slightly through the sunlight. "So, this victim? You knew him?" she asked, and there was a sympathy to her tone.

The officer nodded at her. "Town like this, everybody knows everybody."

Dean circled the car, curious, and there was a frown fixed to his face. He looked to his sister, and he gave his head the smallest shake. She hid a smile. It was an action subtle enough that no one else could have noticed it between them, but Sam did. If anything, they looked amused, as though they were actually enjoying themselves. He didn't understand.

"Any connection between the victims?" she asked, as though she already knew exactly what the answer was going to be. "Aside from the fact that they're all men?"

"No," He shook his head. "Not so far as we can tell."

"So," Sam looked to him, curious. "What's the theory?"

"Honestly," The officer sighed, defeated. "We don't know. Serial murder? Kidnapping ring?"

Dean scoffed at the idea, and Danielle coughed to hide a chuckle.

"Well, that is _exactly_ the kind of crack police work I'd expect out of you guys." he remarked.

Sam looked to them, accusing, his eyes wide, and he stamped down hard on his brother's foot. There was an amused smile on both of their faces, and he had to wonder how much fun they were really having at a potential murder scene. Did they even take the job they were doing seriously? The silence was tense between the four of them, but Dean and Danielle didn't seem concerned with that in the slightest. The officer before them looked perplexed.

Sam sighed, and he offered the man an awkward smile. "Thank you for your time." he muttered. He turned to walk away. "Gentlemen."

Dean and Danielle shared a look, but they followed his lead all the same. Dean glanced back over his shoulder, and then his attention turned to his brother. He reached out and smacked him around the back of the head.

"Ow!" Sam hissed. "What was that for?"

Dean shot him a look, accusing. "Why'd you step on my foot?"

"Why'd you have to talk to police like that?" he countered.

Dean huffed, and he stepped in front of Sam to stop him where he was. "Come on," he pushed. "They don't really know what's going on here. We're all alone on this. I mean, if we're gonna find dad, we have to get to the bottom of this ourselves."

Danielle closed her eyes, and Dean saw the dread in her face. She nodded in the direction behind him, and Dean turned.

There were three men standing behind him, a sheriff and and two FBI agents. "Can I help you, kids?" asked the sheriff, accusing. Clearly they had heard too much. His eyes were narrowed in curiosity.

"No, sir, we were just leaving." Dean stated, and he smiled as he passed them. "Agent Mulder. Agent Scully." He nodded at the agents as they followed the sheriff, and there was a cocky smirk on his face.

Danielle shook her head at him, and she watched as the three men walked away. "One of these days, they're just gonna stop taking our shit and arrest us, you know."

"You worry too much." Dean remarked. "The only thing that's gonna get us caught is you giggling in front of the cops, Dani. You gotta work on your poker-face."

"Yeah, whatever you say, bro." she muttered. "Who's got the better track record at _not_ getting arrested again? Tell me."

"Oh my god, Dan, let it go." he said, exasperated. "For the last time, _none_ of those times were my fault."

Danielle rolled her eyes, and she turned in the direction of the car. "One of these days, Dean Winchester." she pondered. "One of these days."

"So, what do we do now?" Sam asked, and he looked between them for any kind of idea.

Dean shrugged. "We could go talk to that Amy chick?" he suggested. "Cop said she was putting up missing posters down town. If anyone knows anything about anything it's gotta be her, right?"

Danielle nodded, and she turned back to face them. She held out her hand to Dean, expectant. "Keys."

Dean's eyebrows raised. "Excuse me?"

" _Keys_." she said again, a little firmer, and she waved her hand in front of him. "Come on, Dean. Dad told you to share."

"Dad told me to share because you batted your eyelashes at him, like you _always_ do." he remarked. "I keep telling you, play the daddy's girl all you want, but fluttering your lashes doesn't work on me, kiddo."

"I'm not a daddy's girl." she countered. "I can't help it that I'm cute."

"Cute is one word for it." he muttered. "I'd go with troll. Evil, blue-haired, troll."

"And, why was my hair blue again?" she asked him, and there was an accusing smile on her face. "I'm pretty sure it wasn't me that dyed it."

"Yeah." he chuckled. "That was a good one."

"A good one?" She huffed. "I nearly lost my hair trying to get it back to blonde before dad came home and saw it. You still owe me for that one, by the way."

Dean rolled his eyes, and, begrudgingly, he reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out the keys to the Impala. She went to take them from him, but he held them slightly out of her reach. "One scratch, Danielle Winchester—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know." She took the keys from him with a grin. "Such a pushover."

Dean frowned. "What was that?" he pressed.

"I said come on," she said, a little louder. "Places to be, people to save."

Dean narrowed his eyes at her, and he shoved her lightly in the back of the shoulder as she opened the door to the car. She climbed in behind the wheel and he sat beside her. Sam sat in the back, and he looked between them carefully.

"You argue like an old married couple." he observed. "Anyone ever told you that?"

Dean glanced back at him, and he chuckled. "More than once." he admitted. "Even dad's said it. Part of me thinks that's why he went off on his own. He couldn't cope with us anymore."

Danielle laughed. "He used to get so mad listening to us argue." She smiled at the thought. "His face used to go red."

"And, does dad know that you like to provoke the cops, too?" Sam pressed, amused. "Or do you not do that when you hunt with him?"

Dean opened his mouth to respond, but Danielle started the car, and, without warning, she made a sharp u-turn across the middle of the road. The tires of the car screeched, and Dean's eyes went wide as he grabbed a hold of the dash to steady himself. He threw her a look, accusing, and she grinned. "That's for the tape box to the head."

"Do that to my car again and I'll throw the whole bunch at you." he warned, but his tone was light and playful.

Danielle snickered. "So, where am I going?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know. Take a left at the bottom of the road. I think that's the way to town." he muttered. "What are we even gonna say to this girl?"

"You tell me." She shrugged. "This was your idea, not mine. If it was up to me we'd all go to TGI Friday's and have done with it."

"Well, as soon as the case is over I promise we'll go." he offered, sarcastic. "And, by the way, that was a right."

"Yeah." She frowned. "So?"

Dean shook his head, amused. "I said left. You're hopeless, you know that? Where did you get your sense of direction?"

Danielle gave a roll of her eyes. "It's a short-cut." she muttered, but even he could see she had no idea where she was. "I know exactly where we're going."

"Last time you said you knew where you were going we ended up an entire state in the wrong direction, remember that?" he pressed. "This is why I drive, Dan."

"Oh, relax." She waved him off. "It's all under control."

* * *

 _Jericho, California — 02:38 PM._

"Three hours." Dean stated, there was a note of disbelief to his voice. " _Three_. _Hours_."

"Yes, Dean, we've established." Danielle remarked. "Do you wanna say it again?"

"Three hours." he proclaimed. " _Three_. Dan, how do you even get so lost? How does a thirty minute drive take three hours? I just—I don't understand. _How_?"

Danielle shrugged at him, as though it couldn't have concerned her less. "I was enjoying the riveting conversation." she deadpanned.

"I'll give you riveting conversation." he threatened. "Get out of the damn car."

"Threaten me again, this time without the smirk." she challenged, because, however much he tried to hide it, there was a smile on his face.

"Come on," Sam pressed, as though to remind them that they weren't alone. "We need to find this girl."

Danielle looked out over the busy street, and a smile came to her face. "There." She pointed towards a girl across the road. There was a stack of papers in her arms, and she nodded. "Bet you that's her." She looked to Dean. "See, I knew where I was going."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Alright, we can argue about this later." he muttered. "Which, we will, because you're not off the hook. And you're paying for gas money."

"As opposed to paying for it off of your fake credit card? With money you didn't earn? Or deserve?" she countered. "Sure, Dean."

Sam opened the door beside him, and he made a move to get out of the car, maybe in way of getting them to do the same, because they both seemed more than content with sitting there locked away in their own argument. He had been listening to the same thing for the past three hours, and every sarcastic remark they threw between each other, every glare and eye roll, every playful punch or facetious name they called each other, made him miss them more. He felt like a stranger, because he didn't even understand half of the jokes they made.

Dean acted as though he was so used to their sister getting them lost in the car, but he had never known his sister to be so bad at direction. Danielle joked about their brother getting himself arrested and being lousy at dodging the police, but Sam had never known him be anything but smooth when it came to the law. He realized, he didn't know them as well as he thought he had, and that hurt. To think that the two people he had once considered himself closest to in the world were now strangers was upsetting. And it left a horrible feeling of guilt in the pit of his stomach.

He sighed, and he followed his brother and sister's lead as they approached the girl before them. What more could he do?

The truth of it was, Sam missed his family. At that point, he even missed their dad. He missed the way he and his siblings had once been, when it had been the three of them against the world. But there was no going back to those days, that much he knew. Dean and Danielle had each other, and it was clear that was all they needed. They were doing just fine on their own, even without their dad, maybe it was just them that couldn't see they needed no one else. He wasn't sure.

But he was going to fix things. Before he went home, before he went back to Stanford, he was going to fix things with them both. He had to.


	3. The Hunt

_Thank you for reading the last chapter! Hope you enjoy this one!_

 _As always, a huge thank you to loveintheimpala for helping me with this chapter, I wouldn't be anywhere without you girl!_

* * *

 **Danielle Winchester**

 **Chapter Three: The Hunt**

 _Centennial Highway, Jericho, California — 11:51 PM._

That night, Dean, Danielle, and Sam headed back to the bridge that they had been on earlier that day. This time, however, it was empty. The car was gone from the center of the road, and any evidence that the police had ever been there had long since been cleared away. It was as though nothing had ever happened. Maybe that was what the town wanted to believe.

They had spoken to the missing guy's girlfriend, they had done their research, and, yet, they still had absolutely no idea what was going on in that town. And, since they had arrived, they remained no closer to finding their father.

Danielle breathed out in the cold night air, and she watched as her breath formed and instantly dissipated again before her. She followed Sam and Dean further up the road, and she shook her head. The whole hunt was starting to bother her, because none of it made any sense. If their dad had been there, why hadn't they ran into him already? The town was so small, there were only so many places he could be. Honestly, she wasn't sure that he was even in town, or that he had ever been there in the first place. But they were thoughts that she wasn't prepared to share with her elder brother just yet. He was trying to keep the faith, he was trying with everything he had, and she wasn't about to rip that all out from under him. She couldn't.

"So," Dean's voice rang from a few feet away. "This is where Constance took the swan dive."

Danielle looked towards him, and he peered over the edge of the railings of the bridge curiously. The "ghost hitch-hiker", as the people in town seemed to be referring to her as, or whoever she was, was said to have jumped from there. Local legends, how she loved them.

Sam heaved a sigh, and he seemed a lot less optimistic than his brother. "So, you think dad would have been here?" he asked, curious.

Dean shrugged. "Well, he's chasing the same story as us and we're chasing him." he offered, and he headed further up the bridge.

"Okay, so what now?" Sam pushed, and the impatience and restlessness came through clearly in his words. He was becoming more and more edgy, less than satisfied with the lack of information they had, and both his siblings knew that.

"Now, we keep digging until we find him." Dean answered, and he forced his voice to remain calm, steady. "Might take a while."

Sam came to a stop at those words. "Dean." He shook his head. "I told you, I've gotta be back by Mon—"

"Monday." Dean nodded slowly, and he turned to face him again. There was a small, sardonic smile on his face. "Right, the interview." He gave a short laugh, anything but amused. "Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're going to become some lawyer? Marry your girl?"

"Maybe." Sam shrugged, and he frowned. "Why not?"

Dean scoffed, as though the idea was some kind of a joke. "Does Jessica know the truth about you?" he pressed, challenging, because he already knew the answer. "I mean, does she know about the things you've done?"

"No." Sam snapped. He stepped closer, defensive. "And she's not ever going to know."

"Well, that's healthy." Danielle muttered, sarcastic.

Sam turned on her, and there was a frown on his face that proved he was more than ready to argue his point to her, but he didn't get the chance.

"You can pretend all you want, Sammy, but, sooner or later, you're going to have to face up to who you really are." Dean said lightly. He turned from him and continued on his way up the road.

"And who's that?" Sam pushed, because he clearly wasn't prepared to back down, either.

Dean's smirk just grew wider, as though to provoke him. "You're one of us."

That comment seemed to push him further, and the anger flared in Sam's eyes. There was a glare on his face, and his features contorted to a sullen frown. He walked a little faster to get ahead of his brother, he wasn't about to step down.

"No." he rebuked. "No. I am not like you. Either of you. This is not going to be my life."

Dean shook his head. "You have a responsibility to—"

"To dad?" Sam cut him off, abrupt. "And his crusade? You know something, if it weren't for pictures, I wouldn't even know what mom looked like. And, what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, mom is _gone_. And she isn't coming back."

Even Danielle cringed at that comment.

The anger rose in Dean's face at just the mention of their mother. And, in fairness, Sam should probably have known better than to bring her up with him, especially in the way that he had. Remarks like that made Dean see red. He grabbed a firm hold of Sam's jacket and he shoved him up against the railings of the bridge with a thud. He stared him straight in the face, and the glare in his eyes was in warning. But he relaxed a little. As though he had suddenly remembered just who it was he had pinned up against the side of the bridge, his fists loosened on his jacket.

"Don't talk about her like that." he warned. His tone was more somber than angry, and he pushed himself off of him.

"Uh, guys?" The sound of their sister's voice reminded them that they weren't alone, and they both looked to her.

Her eyes were fixed on something behind them, and they followed her gaze. Immediately, they saw what she was getting at. There was a pretty, dark-haired woman, wearing a long white dress, standing on the edge of the bridge. Her gaze shifted from the dark waters beneath for a moment, and she looked on at the three of them. Then, she stepped over the edge, and she vanished from sight. On instinct, the three of them sprinted towards the railings, but there was nothing but the fast flowing river beneath them.

"Where'd she go?" Dean was the first to ask, and he narrowed his eyes as he scanned the waters.

Danielle shook her head, clueless. "I don't know."

They all turned at the sound of the Impala's engine as it roared to life. The headlights shone over them brightly, and they looked between each other, confused. Danielle took a step back from the railings to stand beside Dean, and she frowned.

Dean opened and closed his mouth. "What the—"

"Who's driving your car?" Sam asked, perplexed.

Dean reached into his jacket and he pulled out a set of keys. He held them up and gave them a small shake as if to prove a point.

The Impala suddenly moved, and it drove straight at them. Instinct took over, and there was only one thing that they could do in that situation; turn and run like hell. The lights on the road before them were growing brighter, closer. No matter how fast the three of them could run, they were kidding themselves if they thought they had a chance at outrunning a car. Dean grabbed a hold of his sister's arm, and he yanked her to the side of the road. They all seemed to have the same idea, and the three of them threw themselves over the railings at the side of the bridge.

The sound of the engine stopped, and everything fell silent for a moment. Danielle groaned, because she was more than sure that her arms were going to rip clean from her shoulders. She swung herself forwards and hit the side of the bridge, and it came with a thud that would no doubt leave yet another bruise. She tried to grip a better hold of the railings, and made an attempt to ignore the fact that there was nothing beneath her but a very, very long drop.

And, apparently, Dean. She noticed, Sam was holding onto the railings beside her, but there was no sign of their brother.

Sam seemed to notice that, too, and he looked down to the river beneath them. "Dean?!" he yelled, but there was no sound of a response. "Dean?!" he tried again, a little louder.

"What?!" A deep voice called back, exasperated, and his tone gave away that he was more annoyed than hurt.

Danielle exhaled a long breath, one she hadn't even been aware she had been holding, and she laughed in relief as he finally came into view. He crawled out of the muddy water beneath them, covered in dirt, and he collapsed onto his back at the side of the water.

"Are you alright?" she called down to him, and the concern came through in her words.

Dean gave a small, unconvinced nod, and he offered them a thumbs up. "I'm super." he muttered, and he dropped his arm back to his side tiredly with a dramatic thud.

Danielle and Sam pulled themselves up onto the road, and all they could do was wait for him to join them.

Sam sighed, and he rolled his shoulders slowly. "Danielle, why do you do this?" he asked her, genuinely curious. He didn't understand.

Her eyes moved to him, and she frowned, confused. "Why do I do what?" she pressed.

Sam gave a sigh, as though to say that she should have known what he was getting at. "Hunt." he clarified. "Why do you do it?"

Danielle rolled her eyes at him, because it was a conversation she had been expecting from the moment he had climbed into the Impala back at Stanford. She knew, from the moment they had left, he had been itching to give at least one of them the speech.

There wasn't a simple answer to the question, because, honestly, she had never put much thought into it. It was just what they did, it was what they had always done, and it was what they were good at. It was who they were, who their family was, and it was who they would always be. She knew, once it started, there was no coming back from that life. There was no turning away from it once they were involved, and she and Dean were in a place where they wanted to do nothing else. She couldn't understand why that seemed so hard for him to accept. If they were happy, why couldn't he just be happy for them?

Danielle offered a shrug, nonchalant. "Why not?" she challenged. Her voice was calm, as though not to let him get a rise out of her.

But Sam shook his head at her. "Danielle—"

"Sam." She stopped him, blunt. She wasn't about to let him fight her on it, because, honestly, the last thing she wanted at that point was an argument. They'd had the same fight a hundred times before he had left for Stanford and, she couldn't help but think, any concern he had showed about their lives seemed to have dissipated the moment he turned his back on them. "Listen, we can't all be straight A students, alright? We can't all just bail and run away to college whenever we decide that we've had enough. Some of us have to stick around and just get on with that. And that's what Dean and I did."

Sam looked a little offended by that comment, and he appeared to bite back a comment before he could say something that he would come to regret. "That's not what I meant." he stated simply.

"Right, sure." She nodded, and she turned from him. "Because running away is what you're good at. I'm good at hunting, Sam. That's why I do it."

Sam frowned at her. Whatever patience he had held with her over the past day had long gone, and he was at the end of his temper. "Danielle, have you got something to say to me?" he challenged, defensive. "I mean, what the hell is your problem?"

Danielle scoffed, and she shook her head at him. He looked genuinely confused, and she couldn't comprehend it. "You really have to ask?" But he only stared at her. "Right, of course you do."

"Yeah," he snapped. "I do. Because, you know something, I remember one of the last things you said to me before I left was that you weren't mad about it. You told me that you understood. Hell, you encouraged me to go, Danielle. You told me to apply to college, you told me if hunting wasn't what I wanted then I needed to get as far away from it as I could."

Danielle turned back to face him, and the anger flared in her eyes. "Don't twist my words, Sam." she scolded. "You wanna talk memories? Here's one for you. You know what I remember you saying to me that night? I promise to stay in touch."

As much as he tried, Sam just couldn't hold her glare anymore. His faded, and he looked away. The initial anger seemed to subside from him, and he opened and closed his mouth. "Danielle—"

"No." She held up a hand to silence him. "I don't wanna hear it, Sam. You left. You didn't call. I'm sure you had your reasons. Hell, knowing you, you probably had ten. But I am done with this, okay?" Her eyes found his. "We are done."

The two of them stood and stared at each other for a long moment, and he noted that she even looked surprised by what she had said. Danielle had never said anything like that before, not to him, not to Dean, not even to their dad. He opened and closed his mouth, because he wasn't quite sure what to say. He wanted to protest her words, he wanted to fix it, but how could he? She was ready to turn her back on him, for good, and it was only then that he truly realized the extent of her anger.

There were footsteps behind them, and Danielle composed herself before she turned around to face the source.

"You're alive." she stated.

Dean approached, and he was covered from head to foot in dirt. He glanced between them, and he seemed to realize he had caught them in the middle of something they hadn't wanted him to hear. His eyes fixed to his sister's, as though to ask for an explanation, but she looked away.

"Yeah," He nodded. "Looks like."

Danielle shook her head at him, and she punched him lightly in the arm. "Dude, you're an idiot." she remarked. "Why the hell didn't you grab onto something?"

"Now, come on, Dani," He smirked. "Where's the fun in that?"

"Do you at least remember what you were doing the day they were passing out common sense?" she challenged.

But all Dean could do was roll his eyes at her. "Kid, you wish you had my brains." he muttered. "I need to check my car."

Dean turned, and he all but ran towards the Impala. He opened the hood, and he inspected it carefully. There was a concentrated frown on his face, and neither Sam nor Danielle wanted to interrupt whatever process he seemed to be going through in his mind. He said nothing, he never looked away, and his attention at that point was reserved only for his car.

"Are we good?" Danielle chanced, apprehensive.

Dean narrowed his eyes, and he gave a satisfied nod as he closed the hood again. "Yeah, whatever she did to it, seems alright now." he muttered. "That Constance chick, what a bitch!" he yelled out over the road.

Danielle raised an eyebrow at him, puzzled.

"You know what I mean." he offered. "She sure as hell doesn't want us digging around, that's for sure."

"Right," Danielle agreed. "So, where do we go from here, genius?"

Dean shook his head, and he threw up his arms in frustration. Then he flicked the mud from his hands, and he gave a disgusted sound.

Sam huffed a laugh, and his brow furrowed. "Man, you smell like a toilet."

"So, we head to a motel room." he muttered, and he pointed a finger towards his sister in warning. "I get the first shower. That means no calling dibs, no locking me out of the room, no pretending like you're dying, nothing. None of it. You hear me?"

Danielle frowned at him. "I'm offended. When have I ever done any of those things to you? I'm pretty sure it's you who locked me out of the room and then ran all the hot water off. Even next door could near you singing Jolene."

"You know what, Dan, you're right." he said, sincere. He held out his arms to her. "Come here, kid, I'm sorry."

She ducked his grasp, and she pointed a finger at him in warning. "Touch me and you'll be back in that river so fast, I swear."

Dean snickered. "Come on," He nodded towards the car. "I need a shower."

* * *

 _Jericho, California — Motel — 12:34 AM._

The three of them approached the reception desk, calm, collected, and they each offered a smile to the man who sat behind it. He glanced up from his newspaper, uninterested, until his gaze fell to Dean. His brow furrowed, and he looked him up and down slowly, cautious.

Dean didn't seem concerned. He dropped down a credit card to the desk. "One room, please."

The man once again looked between them, and he picked up the card. His eyes narrowed, and he scoffed. "You guys having a reunion or something?" he pressed.

Dean quirked a brow. "What do you mean?"

"I had another guy, Burt Aframian." he muttered. "He came and bought out a room for the whole month."

Danielle felt something in her stomach turn at the words. "What room was that?" she pushed, a little too urgent.

"Um," The man frowned down at the book before him. "Room twelve."

Dean nodded, because that was all he needed to hear. He took back the credit card from the desk, and, without another word or glance to the man, he turned on his heel and headed back towards the door at the other side of the office. Was this it? Was this where they were finally going to find their father?

Danielle was holding her breath, and her stomach was in knots as they headed towards the room. The motel was dark, and it didn't seem as though there was anybody else staying there but them. It was old, decrepit, not somewhere many people would stay if they had another option. The whole thing terrified her, and she was honestly afraid of what they might find on the other side of the door. She hoped to god that it would be their dad, but any sense she had told her otherwise. When did they ever get so lucky?

Dean seemed to notice, and his hand squeezed her shoulder softly, as though to remind her that she wasn't alone. He smiled, reassuring, and he handed her a lock pick. "Show me your skills." he remarked, and his tone somehow remained light.

A faint smile crossed her face, and she took it from him. She crouched at the door, and in a matter of seconds the lock clicked.

"You're getting good at that." he commented, and there was a pride behind his words. "Nice work."

"Thanks." she muttered, and she handed the lock pick back to him as she stood.

The room they stepped into was dark, and the only source of light came from the dim lamp in the corner that had been left on. There was a thick line of salt at their feet, and none of them disturbed it as they entered. The wall behind the desk opposite them was covered in research, and it was pinned up in an order only their dad could have understood. There were books everywhere, stacked in piles, and paperwork littered the unused bed.

"Whoa." Sam commented, a little taken back.

Dean stepped past him, and he headed further inside the room, cautious. He picked up a half eaten burger from the night-stand beside the bed, and he recoiled quickly at the smell. "I don't think he's been here for a couple days, at least." he muttered.

Sam shook his head, and he looked around slowly, as though to take in every little detail. He pointed to the salt line beneath the window. "Salt, cats-eye shells," he observed. "He was worried. Trying to keep something from coming in."

Danielle shook her head slowly, because that didn't sound at all like their father. Their dad didn't fear the supernatural, the supernatural feared him. That was the way it had always been. So what was he running from? What could have been so bad that it had their own dad scared and hiding in a motel room? She didn't understand.

Apprehensive, she took a step closer to the wall before them. Her eyes narrowed at the research pinned there, and she tried to make some sense of it. There were missing posters, the same ones that she knew Dean had in a folder in the trunk of the car. There were news articles, maps, drawings and descriptions of different creatures, but nothing stood out. It was nothing they hadn't seen before.

"What have you got?" Dean asked, and he came to a stop behind her.

"Centennial highway victims." she muttered. "Nothin' new."

Dean shook his head, puzzled. "I don't get it." he commented, glum, and his brow furrowed. "I mean, different men, different jobs, different ages, ethnicities... There's always a connection, right? So, what do these guys have in common?"

Danielle's head tilted to one side, and she pointed towards an article pinned to the center of the wall. "Dad figured it out." she observed. "He found the same article we did. Constance Welch."

"Yeah?" Dean glanced between her and the article, because he was sure that she was seeing something he wasn't. "So, what does that mean?"

Danielle peeled a yellow post it note from beside it, and she handed it to him. "Woman in white." she read aloud.

Dean looked back to the line of missing posters on the wall, and, suddenly, everything seemed to make so much more sense. "Wow." he remarked. "You sly dogs."

"But, if we're dealing with a woman in white, dad would have found the corpse and destroyed it." she stated, confused. "Why is she still killing people?"

"Maybe she has another weakness." Sam offered.

But Dean shook his head. "Nah. Dad would want to make sure. He'd dig her up." he noted. "Does it say where she's buried?"

Sam reached out and ripped the article from the wall. His eyes scanned it slowly, and he gave a small shake of his head. "Not that I can tell. If I were dad, though, I'd go ask her husband." he said, and he turned the paper around to show them the photo of the man on the other side. "If he's still alive."

"Alright." Dean nodded. "Uh, why don't you two see if you can find an address. I'm gonna get cleaned up." He clapped his sister on the shoulder before he turned towards the bathroom.

"Hey, Dean?" Sam's voice stopped him, and he glanced back. "Look, what I said earlier, about mom and dad... I'm sorry."

Dean held up a hand to stop him. "No chick-flick moments."

A soft laugh escaped Sam, and he nodded. "Alright, jerk."

Dean smiled. "Bitch." he countered.

Despite everything, Danielle found herself smiling the slightest bit. She had missed the way that the two of them used to get along, when they would laugh with each other and joke around, it was one of the few things they had seemed to do like a normal family. Her brothers bickered, they always had done, and something about it had always been so comforting, so familiar.

But the moment was short lived, and she heard the bathroom door close behind Dean as he left the room. Her eyes remained focused solely on the research pinned up before her, because, after what had happened back at the bridge, she didn't want to face Sam. She wasn't sure that she could. She couldn't face another conversation like the one they had just had. She didn't want it, and she sure as hell didn't need it. Not after everything. A part of her knew, had Dean not shown up when he had, it would have gone so much further. Her anger had been brewing, she had felt it, and things could have gotten a lot worse than they had been.

But Sam didn't seem to share her hesitation. "Danielle?" he pressed. "Please, just hear me out."

"Sam," Danielle sighed, and she shook her head. She didn't want to hear him out, she didn't want to listen to anything that he had to say, she didn't want to think about that night four years ago anymore. "Can we just not do this, please? I don't want to have this conversation again."

There was a part of her that just wanted to drop the act and give into him. She wanted to make up with him, she wanted to forgive him, because she was so tired of holding onto the grudge. But she wouldn't. She couldn't. Because, no matter how she looked at it, she was still mad, and, in her eyes, she still had every right to be. She wanted him to know that, she wanted him to understand how much he had hurt them, and she wasn't going to be the one to back down this time. She refused to be the pushover.

But Sam was persistent, he always had been. "We need to talk about this, Danielle." he insisted. "We can't carry on like this."

"Look," Her voice remained calm, steady, but even she heard the anger in her tone. "Let's just get though this weekend, and then you can go back to your perfect little life pretending like Dean and I don't exist, alright? We don't need to talk."

The comment was harsh, and she knew that, but maybe she didn't care anymore. Maybe she was prepared to have it out with him.

"Oh, come on," he muttered, exasperated. "It was never like that, and you know it."

Danielle scoffed, as though amused, and she finally turned to face him. "Oh, really?" she snapped, accusing. "Because I'm pretty sure that it was."

"Danielle," He sighed, despondent. "Why are you being like this? Why can't you let it go?"

Her eyebrows raised. "Why am I being like this?" she pressed, and she shook her head, offended. "What, why am I ignoring you? Gee, I don't know, Sam, what possible reason could anyone have for ignoring their sibling? I sure as hell can't think of one."

"I wasn't ignoring you." he opposed, abrupt. "I—"

"You were damn too ignoring us." she stopped him before he had the chance to make an argument. "When you picked up your phone and you chose not to answer it, that was _ignoring_ us, Sam. And when you do that for four years, that's cutting your family out of your life."

The anger was starting to show in her tone, and four years of confusion and frustration were finally coming out.

"You know what the really sad part is? I stuck up for you." His brow furrowed. "After you left, I made excuse after excuse for you to Dean and dad, just to try and keep some peace. I fought with them both about it, because I thought that you needed time to cool off. I thought, if I managed to keep things civil, when you did finally call back, maybe we could stay a family. And what did I get? Four years of being ignored."

"Four years?" Sam shook his head at that, and his tone matched hers easily. "I may not have called you, but that's a two way street, Danielle. I don't remember the last time you tried to call me, either."

But, immediately, he knew that had been the wrong argument to make. The anger flared in her green eyes, unforgiving, and he knew then that he had pushed her too far.

"Are you kidding me?" she exclaimed. "I called you every night for _weeks_ , Sam. Weeks." She shook her head at him. "And you know what the worst part of all this is? It's how blind you are. You are so far in denial about this you can't even see how messed up it all is. You wanna know the last time I called you? It was three years ago. It was a Thursday, and I was sitting in a hospital waiting room, waiting to see if our brother was going to live or die."

The guilt visibly ran through his face at her words, and his stomach dropped. "Danielle—"

"No." She stopped him, harsh. "I tried to call you that night. I thought maybe, just maybe, you'd be able to take a couple days off from your awesome new life to be there for your brother, to be there for me when I needed you. And, guess what happened, Sam?"

He said nothing, simply looked away, because he already knew.

"Your phone was disconnected. He could have died that night, and you never would have known." Her tone lowered, and she offered a shrug. "Four years, Sam. And we didn't hear from you once. So, you wanna know why I'm being like this? There you go. There's your answer."

Sam's eyes were fixed to the dull carpet at his feet, and a look of remorse and penitence took over his features.

"I'm sorry, Danielle." he offered, sorrowful, because, at that point, he wasn't sure what else he could say.

"You're sorry?" She scoffed. A bitter smile came to her face, and she gave a slow nod. "Well, that's just great, Sam. Good for you."

There were tears shining in her eyes, and he didn't miss them, but she pushed them back before they had the chance to fall. He knew, she wouldn't allow herself to show any kind of hurt in front of him, not then, not in that situation.

"You know what, forget it." she muttered.

The bathroom door opened behind her, and the sound seemed to startle her, as though she had only then remembered that the two of them weren't alone in that room. Her eyes closed for a moment, and he noticed her attempt to compose herself, like she thought that she could hide what had just happened between them from their brother. There was no chance that he hadn't just heard the sound of her raised voice through the thin door, and they both knew it. Was it that she really didn't want him to know how angry she still was, because Sam couldn't imagine that he didn't already know. Or was it that she just didn't want to let onto Dean that she was upset?

His sister turned away from him, and she stalked past Dean towards the bathroom. He opened his mouth to speak, maybe to ask her what was wrong, but he didn't get the chance before the door slammed closed behind her and the lock clicked on the other side. He stood there for a moment, perplexed, and looked to Sam for any kind of an explanation.

Danielle took a short breath, and she leaned back against the bathroom door. She squeezed her eyes closed, and, slowly, unable to do anything else, she sank down to the cold tiled floor. The tears that she had been holding back spilled from her eyes, because, this time, it was all just too much. At that point, she couldn't do anything but cry softly. It hurt. All of it hurt. Sam, their dad, everything.

However she looked at it, and no matter what she tried to tell herself, she was scared. There was a fear in the pit of her stomach that she hadn't ever experienced before, because where was he? Why wasn't he there? Why would he just skip out in the middle of a hunt? It wasn't like him, and it didn't make sense. None of it did. Their dad didn't just bail without telling them where he was going, he didn't ignore call after call after call like that, and he didn't leave his kids wondering if he was even alive. Their dad didn't lock himself away in a motel and hide away from anything evil that might be outside of it. At least, not as far as she knew. It was getting harder and harder to believe that he was okay, that they were going to find him, and she wasn't sure how much longer she could keep up the act.

Going to get Sam had been a desperate move on Dean's part, and she knew that he wouldn't have done it unless he thought he really had to. Dean was just as worried as she was, and she couldn't quite work out how he seemed to remain so upbeat about it all.

And then there was Sam. The truth was, she didn't even know how she felt about him anymore. Everything she had said to him had been cruel, and she regretted the whole argument. It had been the whole point she hadn't wanted to talk to him in the first place, because she had known she wouldn't be able to hold it all back once she had started. There was just something about having him back that seemed so unfair, as though he thought he could just be instantly forgiven. All she wanted was him to know how much it had hurt, and, somewhere, she considered the idea that she had taken that too far. She was angry, but where was holding a grudge getting her?

There was a soft knocking on the other side of the door, and the sound startled her from her thoughts.

"Dani?" Dean's voice was soft, patient. "You alright in there, sis?"

Danielle took a shaky breath, and she nodded, she wasn't sure why. "I'm good." she called back. "I'm fine. I'm gonna take a shower."

Her voice wavered over her words, and he didn't miss it.

"You, uh, you want your bag?" he asked her. "I've got it here."

Danielle pushed herself to stand, and she pulled a hand down her face to wipe away the tears. Slowly, and not noticing how her hands were shaking as she did it, she unlocked the door and opened it a crack.

Dean stood there, waiting, with her bag in his hand. His face softened. In that brief moment, his stomach sank. Her eyes were red, and her eyelashes were wet and thick. There was black mascara smudged beneath her eyes and it stained her pink cheeks.

"Thank you." she said softly, barely audible, as she took the bag from him.

Dean looked torn between saying something else, his mouth opened and closed, but he simply nodded in acknowledgement.

The door closed again, and he sighed. All he could do was stand there for a moment and stare at the wood before him, because he didn't know what else to do. He was more than aware of his brother's eyes fixed to his back, and a part of him didn't even want to turn around. His sister was struggling, she was upset, she was hurting, whether that was about their dad or about their brother he couldn't be sure, but he knew that all she craved was space. Was he really in a position to deny her that? He hated the thought of her suffering alone, he hated the idea that she thought she had to lock herself away to cry, but it was who she was. It was the way she had always been, and, somehow, he took a step back from the door, confident that she would call him if she needed him. He had to believe that.

* * *

 _Jericho, California — Motel Room — 09:10 AM._

Danielle stirred awake at the sound of a door opening somewhere in the distance. She blinked open her eyes, momentarily confused, until she remembered where she was. Dean stepped out of the bathroom, and he offered her a small smile as he did. A deep sigh escaped her as she rolled onto her back, and she rested her hands to her forehead in some futile attempt to block out the sunlight that shone through the open window. Any more sleep was out of the question, she knew that much, and so she forced herself to sit up.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked her, his voice was light, but there was an underlying tone of concern that none of them missed.

Danielle managed a weak nod, and she pushed back the covers. She forced herself from the bed and headed towards the bathroom without a word. She wouldn't even look towards Sam, because she didn't dare to face him, not after the previous night. She was more than aware that, as she crossed the room, Dean followed her. She didn't have to look. He stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind himself.

There was a soft frown on his face, and she already knew the speech she had coming.

"You crashed pretty early last night," he commented dryly. "Never known you so quiet."

Danielle huffed, and she shook her head slowly. "Don't even start with me, Dean." she muttered, and she hopped up to sit on the counter beside the sink. "I'm not in the mood for a fight."

But the comment brought a frown to his face, and his head tilted slightly to the left. "What makes you think I'm going to start something?" he pressed, curious. "If this is about what you said to Sam—"

"Sam had that coming." she stated, before he had the chance to say anything more.

Dean's eyebrows rose. "If this is about what you said to Sam," he continued, as though she had never interrupted. "I'm not going to say anything about it."

There was a distinct note of confusion in her features at the comment, and, it occurred to him, she had assumed he had followed her in there to lecture her about the situation. And that puzzled him. He had never taken anybody's side but hers before, and he couldn't understand why she suddenly thought that was about to change.

"Look, Dan, whatever you need to say to Sam, it's up to you, okay?" He shrugged, nonchalant. "You're not kids anymore, it's not my job to make the two of you play nice. If you're pissed, you're pissed. Nothing I say is going to change that." His face changed, and he seemed to suddenly become more serious. "But, what I'm not gonna take from you is what happened last night. Dan, what's going on? Why were you so upset?"

Danielle shook her head. "I don't know." she offered. "But, I'm okay. I am. It was just a long day."

Dean seemed skeptical. "Are you sure that's all it was?" he pushed, and his tone was understanding, kind. "Dani, if there's something bothering you, if there's something going on, you can tell me."

Slowly, hesitant, her green eyes rose to find his. "You think I'm being too hard on him?"

Dean shook his head, and he took a moment to consider his response. "I think you're hurting." he offered. "I think you've been hurting for the last four years. And, I don't think you could have moved past that without telling him. No matter how much you played it down and pretended like you didn't care, I know how much it hurt you when he walked out. And, now he's back, I can't expect you to just back down and pretend like nothing happened. Neither can Sam. You're not a kid, Dan, if you wanna be mad, that's your choice."

"Are you mad?" she asked, and the question seemed to take him by surprise. "I mean, how do you feel about this?"

Dean contemplated his response for a long moment. "I'm not mad." he admitted. "I think it was a bad move to cut us off the way that he did, and I'm not making excuses for what he did, but I don't think that's what he really wanted to do." He shrugged. "I'm not thrilled about his choice, but what's the point in staying pissed about it? You know, I was angry for a long, long time after he left. Chances are, if he had called us, maybe I wouldn't have picked up. I don't know. But, what I do know is that I don't have the energy to fight him. He knows what he did, and he knows how I feel about it. What more is there to say? It's just a weekend, Dan."

Danielle nodded slowly. "Just a weekend." she repeated, glum. "And then we'll all go right back to pretending we're not even related."

"Maybe we will." he offered. "And, if that's the case, if that's what he wants, it's his loss. But, I got your back, Dani. That much you do know. And, whatever happens, that's not gonna change."

"Yeah." She nodded in way of agreement, and the softest smile came to her face. "Me, too."

"You, uh, you never told me that you'd tried to call him, you know, that night, in the hospital." he said, and something about his tone changed. He sounded confused, curious, maybe even apprehensive about bringing it up with her.

Danielle looked up to face him again. "I didn't think that'd be something you'd want to hear after the week we'd had." she muttered. "Honestly, I don't even know why I tried to call him. I knew he wouldn't answer. It was just... such a bad week."

"Yeah, it wasn't one of our best." he muttered. The truth was, it wasn't a hunt he liked to think back to if he could help it. "That's what did it for you, isn't it? That's why you held onto this for so long. That's why you're still angry. Because of that night."

"I don't know anymore, Dean." she sighed. "I don't know why I'm angry. I just am."

Dean gave a sigh. "Stop beating yourself up, Dani." he told her, and his tone was lighter. "You're only human."

Danielle smiled at him, but there was a sadness behind it that he didn't miss.

"Look, sort out your hair, paint your face with your crap, and get yourself ready, we'll head out and get some breakfast." he encouraged. "It's gonna be fine, Dan. I promise."

* * *

Danielle stepped out of the bathroom to a tense silence, and she could only imagine the conversation that she had just interrupted. Sam was sitting on the end of one of the beds, and his attention was fixed solely to his cell phone, as though to pretend that there was nothing out of the ordinary going on around him. There was a frown on Dean's face, and he looked annoyed, but he said nothing. He nodded at her, and he offered a smile, somewhat guilty. Had he said something? Had they been arguing? She didn't want to know.

"You ready?" he asked her, and she noticed how dull his tone seemed to be. He suddenly sounded tired. "Before I starve to death."

For a moment, she considered the idea of staying behind, because she didn't feel much like eating. But did she really want to stay behind and have yet another conversation with her younger brother? The last two hadn't exactly been sweet family moments. Could she really handle another one?

Reluctant, she nodded. She crossed the room towards the front door and she grabbed her jacket from the back of one of the chairs at the table as she passed. "Let's go."

"Sam?" Dean paused in the doorway, and he glanced back to him. "You want anything?"

Sam simply shook his head. "No." he muttered, and his gaze never shifted from the screen of his phone.

"You sure?" he coaxed, and he waved his fake credit card as though to make a point. "Aframian's buying." But, once again, he shook his head. And Dean sighed in defeat. "Alright," he muttered. "We won't be long."

The door slammed closed behind him, and he joined his sister on the road.

"So, where are we going? What's for breakfast?" she asked, curious.

Dean threw her a smile. "I'm thinking bacon. Double bacon. Maybe cheese." He snapped his fingers. "Double bacon cheeseburger."

"For breakfast?" She shook her head. "You're disgusting. You're not gonna see thirty at this rate, you know."

"Oh, I'm sorry," he teased. "Did I offend you little miss eating animals is wrong?"

Danielle chuckled, and she opened her mouth to respond, but she stopped herself. She stopped walking, and her hand grabbed his sleeve. "Dude."

Dean's eyes followed hers, and he frowned. The motel owner who had checked them in was stood out on the parking lot, and there were two police officers listening intently to whatever he was saying. He nodded towards them, and he pointed a finger in their direction. Dean turned away immediately, he pulled his phone from his jacket and quickly dialed a number.

"Dude," His voice was rushed. "Cops. Take off." He paused, and he huffed a dry laugh. "Yeah, they kinda spotted us. Go find dad."

The phone had returned to his pocket, out of sight, by the time the officers approached. Danielle frowned, and she recognized them from the bridge the previous day. Thinking back, they probably could have been a little more inconspicuous in their questioning. Was it any real surprise that they hadn't taken them seriously? But she forced up a smile, as though to ask what they wanted.

Dean's face matched hers perfectly, and he offered an innocent frown. "Problem officers?" he asked brightly.

The officer raised an eyebrow at him. "Where's your partner?" he pressed, curious.

"Partner?" Dean gave a laugh, and he shook his head as though confused. "What—what partner? We don't have a partner."

As though to say he knew better, the officer pointed back over his shoulder towards their motel room, as indication to the other officer to head that way. Dean glanced towards his sister, and there was absolutely no confidence behind the smirk he offered her. Everything inside that room was about to make them suspects in the case, and they both knew it. Nothing about their current situation looked good from where they were standing.

"So," The officer before them began brightly. "Fake US Marshals? Fake credit cards? You got anything that is real?"

Dean simply smirked. "Well, I can't speak for her, but," He shrugged. "My boobs."

Danielle huffed a laugh, and the officer glared. Sometimes, the things that her brother came out with were just so stupid, so ludicrous, she had to laugh. But, the man before them seemed a lot less amused. His stony face didn't falter, and his eyes narrowed.

Before they knew what was happening, they were slammed down, side by side, face first against the hood of his squad car.

The smirk held on Dean's face, and all Danielle could do in response was roll her eyes.

"I told you." she muttered. "I said it, one of these days they'd stop taking our shit and arrest us. Didn't I say it?"

"Oh, Dan, you say a lot of things." he countered. "What makes you think that I listen?"

* * *

 _Jericho Police Station — 10:29 AM._

Things were seriously starting to get ridiculous, and Danielle was growing more and more frustrated by the second. Not only had they left her and her brother sitting in separate police cars for fifteen minutes with no way to get a coherent story together, they had then taken twenty minutes to get them to the police station, and then, to top it all off, they had left her sitting alone while they dragged Dean off to wherever they had taken him. Whoever said that chivalry was dead had clearly done some time in Jericho. By the time she had been brought in and booked, pushed into a room to have her fingerprints taken and forced to stand there to have her mug shot taken, Danielle was ready to kill the next person who so much as looked at her wrong.

The sheriff appeared in the doorway of the room where she was being held, and he shot a glance towards the deputy who had been watching her, as though expecting her to flip and attack him or something. Honestly, even if she had wanted to, she wasn't sure she had the energy.

There was a deep frown on his face, and he looked anything but happy. "Bring her in." he stated, his tone gruff, impatient.

There was a note of annoyance to his words, however hard he tried to hide it, and she smiled. Whatever Dean had said, or whatever he had done, it clearly had the man riled up already.

Danielle heaved a sigh, and she pushed herself to stand. She followed the sheriff's lead towards the room opposite the one where she had been held, and he held open the door for her to enter. Dean was sitting at the table, and he looked nothing more than bored.

"We've got a couple of questions for you." The sheriff stated, blunt, and he slammed the door closed behind them. There was a smirk on his face, smug, as though to say that he knew something they didn't, like he thought he already had the two of them beat.

Danielle glanced towards her brother, who was glaring at the sheriff intently, and she shrugged. "Fine." she muttered, eyebrows raised, expectant. She didn't see what could be so hard that they couldn't lie their way out of it. There was always a lie to tell when it came to those kinds of predicaments, they had learned that the hard way over the years. She saw no threat. "Ask away."

"Okay." The sheriff nodded, and he looked between them slowly, eyes narrowed. "How about we start with something easy, huh?" He smiled down at her, and he took a step closer. "What's this guy's name?"

And, crap. Just like that, they were already screwed.

But, maybe not. She noticed, the second that the question had passed his lips, Dean began tapping out a rhythm on the table with his fingertips. "What the hell kind of question is that?" she asked, incredulous, and she tried to buy herself a few extra seconds as she listened intently to Dean. A smirk came to her face as she recognized the song. "His name is Ted Nugent."

The sheriff looking nothing but pissed at that comment, and the smirk on Dean's face only widened, as if to say that he should have known better than to try and catch them out.

"Sit down." he snapped, and Danielle moved to sit in the chair beside Dean's. "I'm not sure the two of you realize just how much trouble you're in here."

"Are we talking, like, misdemeanor kind of trouble or, uh, squeal like a pig trouble?" Dean responded, sarcastic.

But the sheriff continued to glare at him, and it was clear that he didn't find either of them the least bit amusing. "The two of you got the faces of ten missing persons taped to your wall." he rebuked. "Along with a whole lot of satanic mumbo-jumbo. Boy, you and your girlfriend here are officially suspects."

Danielle shook her head at him, exasperated.

"That makes sense." Dean nodded enthusiastically. "Because when the first one went missing in eighty-two, I was three. And my _sister_ here hadn't even learned to walk yet."

"I know you've got partners, one of 'em's an older guy. Maybe he started the whole thing. So, tell me, Dean, Danielle," He reached behind him and grabbed a brown journal from a box on the empty seat, and he dropped it down to the table before them with a thud. "This his?"

Dean and Danielle both jumped a little at the sound of the bang the heavy book made, and they stared down at it, lost for words. The sheriff opened it and he began to flip through a few of the pages at random. Dean leaned forwards slightly to get a better look, his eyes wide, and all signs of humor and cockiness were gone from his stance. The sheriff seemed to note the looks on their faces, and he smirked. They had just confirmed every suspicion he'd had about them.

"I thought that might be your names." he continued. "You see, I leafed through this, what little I could make out, I mean, it's nine kinds of crazy. But, I found this, too," He opened the journal to the last page, and he pointed to a piece of paper.

 _Dean, Danielle, 33-111._ The writing belonged to their father, and there was no denying it. The two of them shared a look, and their faces matched the other's perfectly. It was clear in their eyes, the fear, the confusion, they looked lost.

But the man before them didn't miss it, and he planned to take full advantage. "Now, you're both going to sit there until one of you tells me exactly what the hell that means."

Danielle couldn't look back to him, she didn't dare, because she didn't know what the hell to think. But, Dean leaned back in his seat, calm, and the smile returned to his face, nonchalant. He offered a clueless shrug, as though to say he had no idea what he was talking about.

"You don't wanna talk, huh?" He nodded, as though to say that he had expected nothing less, and he shrugged. "Fine. I can wait."

There was a knock at the door, and they all looked towards it as it opened. The deputy stepped inside, and he glanced between the three of them. "Sheriff, we need you out here." he stated, somewhat apologetic.

The sheriff gave an impatient sigh, as though he thought he had actually been getting somewhere with them, and he nodded. He turned back to them, and he smiled. "You better come up with a good story, or so help me god, I'll lock you both up until you do." he warned, his tone hard, unforgiving. He turned towards the door, and he slammed it closed behind himself as he left.

Dean released a long breath, and he pulled a hand down his face, frustrated. "What a dick." he muttered.

But Danielle didn't look to him, because her eyes still hadn't left the open book before them. "Dean, what the hell?" she pressed.

Dean reached out and pulled the book closer to them, and he flipped through a few pages. He gave a slow shake of his head. "I don't know, Dani." he offered. "It's not like him to leave this anywhere."

"I think you were right." she admitted, and her voice was quiet, cautious. "I think he's in trouble. I'm worried about him."

Dean looked down to face her, and he saw the fear in her eyes. She had spent the past couple of days doing everything she had to convince herself that he was fine, but he had known, ever since they had received that voicemail, it had been nothing but an act. Honestly, he was more surprised it had taken her so long to admit it.

"I know." he agreed. "Me, too. But, let's just work on getting out of here, and then we'll find him, alright? Trust me."

"That's easier said than done, Dean." she muttered, despondent.

Dean offered a weak smile, and he looked back to the journal before them. He couldn't understand it. He couldn't understand why their father would leave it behind, he barely let the thing out of his sight. He always had it with him, whether he was reading it or writing something new on the empty pages, it was always there. Why would he suddenly not take it with him? It didn't make sense. He was starting to think, maybe things were worse than he had thought them to be. Had something happened to him? Was he even alive? What could be so bad that he couldn't pick up a phone and call them, because he had to know that they were worried. He had to wonder, were the ever going to find him?

"Hey," Danielle spoke, and her voice pulled him back from his thoughts. "What are you thinking so hard about?"

Dean shook his head slowly, and he sat back in his seat. "I don't know." he muttered. He looked to her, and he offered a shrug. "You ever wish you could have gone, too?"

Danielle frowned at him, and the confusion was evident in her face. "Gone where?" she pressed, and she clearly wasn't following.

"To college." he clarified. "Like Sam. Or, maybe not even college, just... I don't know... anywhere." His words were slow, as though his thoughts were a million miles away from that room. "I mean, Sam always knew that he wanted something more than this life. I never let you believe that you could, too."

Her green eyes regarded him for a moment, and she considered his words carefully. The confusion faded, and a small smile crossed her face. "Dean, I, uh, I don't know if it somehow escaped your notice, but I wasn't exactly the same kind of student that Sam was. I didn't really have the grades to get a full ride to college."

"Yeah," Dean scoffed, bitter. "And whose fault was that, huh?"

"Um," She raised an eyebrow, as if to ask whether or not it had been a serious question. "Mine?"

"Dad left me in charge of you, Dan." he retorted, and his tone gave away that he was about as far away from joking as it was possible to get. "I let you bunk off school when you couldn't be bothered to go, or when you hadn't done your homework. I never told dad when you got yourself suspended. Hell, half the time it was my fault that you did." He took a short breath, and he shook his head. "I could have pushed you to work, you know, to do something with your life, to do something for yourself. I could have told you to sit there and do your homework, to go to college, to get a real job. I never did."

Danielle looked up to him, and her brow furrowed, somewhat sadly. It hurt her to see the amount of blame and responsibility he placed on himself as it shone in his eyes. He blamed himself for everything that was anything but his fault. The inevitable things that would happen in life, he put it all on his own shoulders.

"You could have." she agreed, and he looked to her, eyebrows raised. "But, think of all the fun we'd have missed out on if I'd have spent my teenage years going to school."

There was a smirk playing on her face, but Dean simply rolled his eyes at her, seeming to think that she was joking. "Like what?" he pressed, dubious. "What part of our teenage years were really that fun for you?"

"I don't know," She shrugged. "Like when we'd get suspended together so we could sit and watch bad horror movies until Sam came home. Or, remember when we stole that car from the motel parking lot and just spent the day driving around different burger stores? You taught me to drive, you taught me to shoot, you taught me how to fight. I mean, you remember that day we spent at that amusement park? Or the day that we bunked off and went to the beach and got sick eating those candy smoothie things they sold?"

Despite himself, Dean smiled at the thought.

"Look, school was never my thing, Dean." she offered. "The same as it wasn't yours. I chose this life. I'm happy."

Dean gave a soft laugh. "We really were idiots back then, weren't we?" He smiled. "It just, I don't know, it seems kinda crappy sometimes. You could have done anything, gone anywhere, and instead you're stuck driving around and hunting monsters with me."

"Don't sell yourself short, Dean." she countered. "You're not a bad person to road trip with."

A short laugh escaped him, and he nodded. "Thanks." he remarked. "Hey, look, I know you don't wanna talk about this, but are you ever gonna forgive him?" he asked, tentative. "I'm not gonna defend what he did, but he is your brother. I know you, Dan, you can't hold a grudge against anyone."

Danielle seemed to consider her response for a moment, and she shrugged. "Course I am." she replied, as though there was no doubt in her mind about it. "I just... I don't know, Dean. It was a shitty thing for him to do, you know? Every time I wanna forgive him I just think about that night, and..." she trailed off, and she sighed. "Here we are."

"Which night are you talking about?" he pressed, curious. "Which night is it that you can't let go of? The one where he walked out? Or the one where he didn't answer the phone?"

"You were dying, Dean." she stated, blunt. "You were on your death bed, and I was alone. I was scared. I needed my brother."

Dean nodded. "I know." he said, and his voice was soft, understanding. "But, we made it through that. And, you know, we'll make it through this, Dan. We always do. It's what we're good at."

But Danielle didn't have the chance to reply.

The door barged open before them, and the sheriff entered once again. It was clear that his patience hadn't restored in his short absence, and, if anything, he looked more irritated than he had done before. There was a hard frown on his face, and his glare promised nothing but an interrogation. He slammed the door closed behind himself, and he looked between them, accusing.

"I want an answer." he stated, impatient. "And, I want one now." His gaze fell to the journal. "What does it mean?"

Dean huffed. "It's my high school locker combo." he stated, upbeat. "Sorry it's not more exciting."

The sheriff shook his head, and it was clear that he wasn't buying it. "We gonna do this all night long?" he pushed. "Listen to me—"

But he stopped, and he gave an impatient huff, as the door once again opened behind him. The same officer as before entered once again, and he looked alarmed. "We just got a 911, shots fired over at Whiteford Road." he blurted out, rushed.

At that point, he looked as though he wanted to slam his head against the table. He glanced between the siblings before him, and his eyes narrowed. "Either of you have to go to the bathroom?" he asked, impatient.

Both Dean and Danielle shook their heads. "No." they replied, simultaneous.

"Good." He stood from where he leaned against the table and pulled a pair of handcuffs from his belt.

His grasp was rough as he took a firm hold of Dean's arm, and he slammed the cuffs around him. He looped the chain through the bar beneath the table and attached the other side to Danielle's arm.

Without another word or glance, he turned and marched from the room.

The sound of the door slamming closed made them both jump, and they shared a look between themselves.

"Life just gets better and better, huh?" Danielle remarked, glum.

Dean shook his head. "There are worse people you could be cuffed to, Dani." he remarked, upbeat, as though he knew something that she didn't. He gave the chain a shake as if to prove a point. "Don't you love our quality time."

"Oh, yeah." she enthused. "I'm almost jealous of those brothers and sisters who get their kicks out of seeing a movie or going to a game. How boring must their lives be."

Dean snickered. "We've always been eccentric when it comes to quality time, you know that." he quipped. "It's what makes us interesting."

"Yeah, that's one word for it." she muttered. "Do you wanna do the honors, or shall I?"

Dean followed her gaze to their dad's journal, and a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "I'll do it." he offered. "I'm getting rusty."

Danielle said nothing as Dean tugged a paper clip from one of the pages of the open book before them. There was a smirk on his face, confident, and he pulled it open with his teeth. He worked on the lock at his wrist, a concentrated frown on his face, until he heard it click. With a satisfied smirk, he turned his attention to the lock around his sister's wrist, and, in moments, it was unlocked.

"Nice job." she remarked, rubbing a hand at her wrist. "Not as rusty as you think."

Dean shot her a smirk. "Come on," he muttered. "Let's get the hell out of here."


	4. The Darker Side Of The Life

_Thank you for reading_ _and reviewing_ _the last chapter!_ _Apologies that it has taken a little longer for this update, but things have been absolutely crazy lately and life has just gotten in the way!_

 _As always, thank you so much to the incredible loveintheimpala, because, without her, there would be no story! _

_Hope you enjoy this one!_

* * *

 **Danielle Winchester**

 **Chapter Four:** **The Darker Side Of The Life**

 _Jericho, California —_ _Police Station_

Dean and Danielle headed down the road ahead of the station, heads down as though wary to be seen.

"Don't say a word." Dean warned, and Danielle looked to him, confused. "If _I told you so_ comes out of your mouth, Dani, I swear—"

Her eyes narrowed, and a smirk came to her face. "Are you suggesting I have reason to say I told you so?" she remarked, smug. "If this is about us getting arrested, because of you, _again_ , then, yes, I told you so."

"And what the hell does that mean, _again_?" he exclaimed, outraged. "It is not _always_ my fault."

"Yeah," She scoffed. "Dad is gonna _love_ this one. What was it he said? One more arrest and we were both back to hunting with him."

"It's an empty threat." he rebuked. "Dad doesn't want us hunting with him. You said it yourself, we were driving him nuts."

Danielle chuckled. "We're a force to be reckoned with." she quipped. "It's not our fault that people can't handle us."

Despite himself, he huffed a laugh. "I've said it all along, kiddo." he grinned. "We're too awesome for other people. That's why they don't get us."

"Nothing to do with us being antisocial monster hunters, then?" she countered. "I always thought that was what separated us from normal people."

"Who wants to be normal, anyway?" He gave a shake of his head. "Where's the fun in that?"

Danielle shrugged. "Sam does." she offered. "Maybe there's something in it that we just don't see."

Dean looked to her, but he didn't comment for a moment. His mouth opened and closed, and, whatever response he'd had, he seemed to think twice about it.

"We should call him." he stated, a little more serious. "See if he can come pick us up."

Danielle nodded in agreement, and she pointed off somewhere in the distance. "Payphone."

Dean nodded, and they headed towards it. "You got any change?" he asked, searching the pockets of his jacket for any spare coins.

"Uh," Danielle reached into her jacket, and she brought out a few coins with a shrug. "Make it a quick call, I guess."

Dean took them, and, one by one, he shoved them into the slot, impatient. The phone rang and rang, and he was sure that their brother wasn't going to answer it. But the line crackled, and he sighed in relief.

"Hey." Sam answered. "I'm guessing you're out of jail."

A smile came to his face. "Fake 911 phone call, I don't know, Sammy, that's pretty illegal." he remarked, and the humor showed clearly in his tone.

Sam scoffed. "Yeah, you're welcome."

"Well, listen, we gotta talk—"

"Tell me about it." Sam interrupted. "So, I went to see the husband, turns out he _was_ unfaithful. We _are_ dealing with a woman in white. And she's buried behind her old house, so that should have been dad's next stop."

Dean shook his head, exasperated. "Sam, would you shut up for a second?"

But Sam didn't seem to note the urgency in his brother's voice. He spoke quickly, as though to be sure that he could get it all out. "I just can't figure out why dad hasn't destroyed the corpse yet."

"Well, that's what I'm trying to tell you." he pushed. "Dad left Jericho."

"Wait, what?" Sam asked, perplexed. "How do you know?"

"We've got his journal." he stated, and his eyes fell to the book in his sister's hand.

But Sam now seemed to understand his concern. "He doesn't go anywhere without that thing."

"Well, trust me, he did this time." he muttered. "He left us a message, same old ex-marine crap when he wants to let us know where he's going."

"Co-ordinates." Sam muttered, despondent. "Where to?"

Dean shook his head. "We're not sure yet."

"I don't understand." Sam went on. "I mean, what could be so important that dad would just skip out in the middle of a job? Dean, what the hell is going on?"

Dean opened his mouth to respond, not even sure of what he was going to say, but he didn't get the chance. The sound of tires screeching came from the other end of the phone, and it was followed by a loud slam. "Sam?" he chanced, cautious. "Sam?!" But there was no response. The line crackled, and his ear was filled with the sound of static before the call went dead.

His stomach dropped, and he slammed the pay phone back against the holder.

Danielle stared up at him, eyes wide in alarm, as though to ask what was happening.

"Come on," he urged. He grabbed a firm hold of her wrist and pulled her from the phone box with him. "We gotta move."

Dean was already marching down the road again, and Danielle had to jog a little to keep up. "What's going on?" she pressed.

"Sam's in trouble." he muttered. "I think he's headed up to the house. Something happened, I don't know."

But those words brought Danielle to a stop. There was a frown on her face, incredulous.

Dean turned, and he held up his hands. "What?" he snapped. "Dan, we gotta move."

"What are you planning to do, genius?" she rebuked. "Run ten miles and save him?"

Dean's eyebrows raised. "Well, do you have a better idea?" he snapped, impatient.

Danielle narrowed her eyes, as if to say that she'd take his challenge. Her eyes fell to a couple who were climbing out of a car across the street, and she smirked slightly. "Maybe I do."

Dean frowned, confused. "Dan, what—"

But she was already gone. Before he could get another word out, she was marching across the street away from him. To where, he wasn't sure.

"Hey, hey, excuse me!" she yelled, loud enough that the couple standing on the side walk before her turned in curiosity. They looked on at her with a frown, confused, and all Dean could do was stand back and hope that whatever she was planning to do wasn't going to land them back in jail, or worse. "Federal Marshals, ma'am." she stated, confident, as she pulled her fake badge from the inside of her jacket. How she still had it, he wasn't sure he wanted to know. "We need to borrow your car."

The woman's face contorted to a deeper frown, and her gaze shifted between the two of them, accusing. All Dean could do was offer an apologetic shrug, and nod in agreement.

Begrudgingly, and with an unimpressed sigh, she handed the keys over towards Danielle, who took them with a smile.

"We'll bring it back, don't worry about it." she affirmed. And, without another word, she turned towards the black car before them.

Dean cringed slightly, and did everything in his power to avoid looking back at the glaring woman behind them, and he followed her lead. He slammed the door closed behind himself, and he threw her a look. "Neat trick." he muttered.

"You're just bitter you didn't think of it." she countered, smug.

"Yeah, whatever." he muttered. "Anything to get out of running, huh?"

Danielle scoffed, and she gave a nod of agreement as she started the engine. "I don't run." she remarked. "Don't be ridiculous."

A chuckle escaped him, and he shook his head at her. "Just, for once in your life, Dani, don't get lost. That's all I'm asking right now."

Danielle rolled her eyes at the comment, automatic, and she took off down the street.

Danielle's driving was more reckless than Dean had ever known it to be before, and, if nothing else, it proved to him that the lack of concern she wanted to portray for their kid brother was nothing but an act. Her knuckles were white from the intense grip she held on the steering wheel, and her green eyes were wide and glued to the road as though their lives depended upon it. Hell, they did. She ran red lights, she turned corners so fast he was surprised the car hadn't flipped, and he wasn't sure he even wanted to know how much over the limit she was going.

Eventually, and he thanked his lucky stars as it did, the tires of the car screeched to a halt as Danielle swerved the car to an abrupt stop. He reluctantly released the hold he had on the dash, and he turned to her, accusing.

"Who _the hell_ taught you to drive?!" he snapped.

"You did." she pointed out, confused. "What was wrong with that? I didn't get lost, did I? Wasn't that the only thing you asked of me?

Dean opened and closed his mouth, and he took a short breath. "You're one on your own, Danielle Winchester." he remarked.

"I'll take that as a compliment." she quipped. "Come on, we need to find Sam."

Simultaneous, they climbed from the car and headed warily towards the house ahead of them. It was old, decrepit, and looked as though no one had lived there in decades. The Impala was parked before it, and, for a moment, it looked as though there was no one inside.

"Where the hell is he?" Dean asked, his voice hushed as though he didn't want to disrupt the silence around them.

A soft thud came from the inside of the Impala, and that was when they saw him. There was a frown on his face that indicated he was in pain, and that was enough to have his two siblings sprinting towards the car. A form flickered above him, and the woman who they had seen on the bridge made herself visible to them. On instinct, and not sure of what else he could do at that point to save his brother, Dean moved to the trunk. He took out the first weapon he reached, and he fired a shotgun, over and over, and watched helplessly as the bullets smashed the window and flew straight through her. With a screech, one that gave away nothing but anger and fury, her form vanished once again.

Wary, Danielle stepped forwards, and she pulled open the door. "Sam?" she pressed, cautious. "Are you alright?"

"I'm taking you home." Sam mumbled, almost inaudible, more to himself than to either of them, and he forced the car into drive. He slammed on the gas, and he drove the Impala furiously towards the house. Dean and Danielle stared on, eyes wide, because he wasn't slowing down.

"What the hell is he doing?" Dean pushed, alarmed.

The car collided with the side of the house, and the Impala drove straight through it. Unsure of what else they could do, Dean and Danielle sprinted after him.

"Sam!" Dean yelled. He marched around to the window, and he looked him over slowly. "You okay?"

Sam looked up with a frown, he didn't look sure, but he nodded. "Yeah," he muttered. "I think."

Dean pulled open the door, and he took a hold of his brother's hand as he pulled him free from the car.

"Uh, guys." Danielle's voice sounded from behind them, and they both turned.

Constance stood before them, a glare on her face that promised revenge. She looked murderous. The temperature around them dramatically dropped, and before them they could see their own breath in the air. Before they could even think to react, a large desk was thrown towards them with an unseen force, and it slammed the three of them back against the Impala. They couldn't move.

"Was this really your plan, Sam?" Dean pressed, accusing, as he threw a glare towards him. "Smart."

But Sam's eyes narrowed, as though to say that he knew something they didn't. "Wait."

As if on cue, the dim lights above them began to flicker on and off, and the woman who had been glaring through them just moments ago now looked terrified. Droplets of water fell through the ceiling and bounced from the floor, and a stream began to rush down the staircase. At the top stood a young boy and girl, side by side, holding hands. They were pale, their clothes were tattered, and their hair dripped with water as though they had just walked in from a thunder storm. Or, Danielle pondered, they had just gotten out of an overflowing bathtub.

"You've come home to us, Mommy." An eerie voice sounded throughout the house, and it seemed to echo from the walls.

In the blink of an eye, the two children were beside her, holding her tightly, and all Constance could do was scream. She struggled against their hold, her form flickered in and out, and then, in a surge of energy, the three of them dissipated into a splash of water on the dusty floor.

The three of them were left alone, and the only sound now was the steady drops of water as they hit the damp floorboards. The pressure had been lifted from the desk holding them to the Impala, and they pushed it away easily.

"So," Dean gave a slow shake of his head, and his eyes scanned the room around them as he tried to process what had just happened. He took a short step forwards, and the water covering the floorboards splashed beneath his boots. "This is where she drowned her kids."

Sam nodded. "That's why she could never go home." he concluded. "She was too scared to face them."

"You found her weak spot. Nice work, Sammy." he said lightly, and he gave him a hard slap on the chest as he passed.

Sam gave a laugh, though it came out as more of a grimace through the pain he clearly felt, and he shook his head. "Yeah, wish I could say the same for you." he rebuked. "What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak?"

"Hey," Dean pointed a finger at him in warning. "Saved your ass." He crossed the room towards his car, and he leaned closer for a better look. He wiped at the dust covering the hood with his fingertips, and he frowned. "I'll tell you another thing; if you've screwed up my car," He turned back to him, face serious. "I'll kill you."

Sam huffed a laugh, as though he already knew there was nothing to be concerned about, and he followed Dean's lead towards the Impala. Dean climbed behind the wheel, face like thunder, until he turned the key and the engine roared to life.

"You get a free pass," he muttered, begrudgingly. "This time."

Danielle climbed into the back seat, and she glanced between them. A part of her wanted to say something, but she couldn't. Her eyes lingered on Sam for a moment, but she just didn't know the right words to use. Gradually, the panic she had felt was wearing down, and everything seemed to shine in a new perspective for her. In the moments before they had found him, she had been so sure that they were going to lose him, that something awful had happened, and she had envisioned them having to tell Jessica about why they hadn't brought him home again. But, there he was. Their brother. Her brother. And, suddenly, everything she had ever thought about him was so different.

But Dean's thoughts seemed miles away from anything too serious. He turned up his music and the sound of rock blared throughout the Impala. He reversed away from the house and turned in the direction of the highway, never looking back.

"See, Dan," Dean commented, the first of them to break the silence since they had left the house. "This is how you drive a car."

Danielle rolled her eyes. "I know how to drive a car, Dean." she deadpanned. "You taught me, remember? So, if I can't drive, it just means that you're a crappy teacher."

Dean scoffed. "Maybe you're just a crappy learner." he rebuked. "There was nothing wrong with my driving lessons."

"Nothing wrong with them?" She huffed a laugh, incredulous. "Dean, lesson one of learning to drive was learning how to break into and hot-wire a car."

"And can you honestly sit there and tell me those skills never came in useful?" he countered, smug.

"Yeah, you're a real inspiration to me, sensei." she remarked.

Dean rolled his eyes, and he threw her a look over his shoulder, amused. "You joke now," He shook his head. "Just wait until you're being chased by a gang of werewolves and you need to hot-wire a car to escape. Then you'll thank me."

"Wasn't that you?" she pressed. "Only, it wasn't a gang of werewolves, it was a a gang of strippers. And you still didn't get away without a slap."

Dean laughed, really laughed. "Yeah, I enjoyed turning twenty-one." he mused. "Good times. You remember that, Sam?"

But Sam's attention was fixed solely to the road map open on his lap, illuminated by the flash light tucked neatly between his shoulder and chin. "Check it out," he stated, and it was clear that he hadn't been listening. "The co-ordinates dad left you, it's Blackwater Ridge, Colorado."

Dean raised an eyebrow, because he had never heard of it before. "Sounds charming." he remarked. "How far?"

"Uh," Sam frowned down at the map, and he shrugged. "About six hundred miles."

"Hey, if we shag ass we could probably make it by morning." he said, and there was a hopeful tone to his voice.

But Sam looked away, and he gave a soft sigh. "Dean, I, um..."

Dean glanced to him, and then back to the road. He understood. "You're not going." he resolved. The disappointment was evident on his face, but he covered it as quickly as it showed itself.

"That interview is in like ten hours." he said, apologetic. "I gotta be there."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." He nodded. "I'll take you home."

Sam turned off the flash light and returned the map to the glove compartment, and a silence fell over the car.

"We need gas." Dean muttered. "Thanks to Danielle and her crappy sense of direction."

Danielle rolled her eyes. "Are you _still_ talking about that?" she huffed. "Let it go, Dean."

Dean pulled the car into a gas station towards the side of the road, and the car came to a smooth stop. "Sammy, fill it up." he muttered. "I'm gonna pick up some snacks."

Sam nodded, but he said nothing. He and Dean climbed from the car, and their doors slammed closed at the same time. The sound made Danielle jump a little, and she sat up straighter. Through the window, she watched Sam, and she shook her head to herself.

No matter how much of the weekend she had spent trying to convince herself that she didn't care anymore, that her and Sam were done, that there was no turning back, she just couldn't shake the feeling of complete dread, terror, and pure fear that had consumed her at the thought of Sam being hurt back on the hunt. It hadn't made much sense at the time, but things had calmed down, the adrenaline rush had gone, and it was something that just wouldn't leave her mind. She cared. And she couldn't believe she had ever thought otherwise. Suddenly, the anger that she had held onto, whether deserved or not, didn't matter anymore.

There was no choice, she had to say something, because she couldn't spend another four years hating him. She wasn't sure she had it in herself.

Slowly, almost tentative, she climbed from the car. He was already returning the gas pump to the holder, and, as he turned, he stopped.

"Hey." Danielle stated.

A slight frown came to his face, he looked wary, as though unsure whether she was going to start something. "Hey." he replied, blunt, cautious.

Danielle sighed, and she leaned back against the Impala. Her arms were folded tightly over her chest, and she looked nowhere but the road at her feet. "Your girlfriend, she seems really sweet."

Despite himself, Sam smiled, and he nodded. "She is." he agreed. "She's great. I think you two would really get along."

"Look, I'm sorry abut what I said, you know? I get why you wanted to get away from this life. Honestly, I don't blame you." She sighed. "I shouldn't have said what I did."

But Sam shook his head. "No, you were right." he countered. "I should have called. I wish I had."

Danielle nodded. "Well, I guess you can give us a call tomorrow and let us know how your interview goes, right? I'm sure you'll do great."

"Thank you." He smiled, and it was the first genuine smile from him that she had seen all weekend. "I really missed you, Dan."

Danielle nodded in agreement. "Me, too."

Without hesitation, Danielle stepped forwards and wrapped her arms around his middle. For a moment, the action seemed to surprise him, but he held her back just as tightly. Right there, everything felt okay, and Sam could allow himself to believe that they had never fought at all, that he had never left them, that their dad wasn't missing. For a moment, he could allow himself to believe that they really were just a normal family.

"Wow." A voice came from behind them, amused. "Isn't that sweet."

Danielle rolled her eyes and turned to face Dean, but the smile couldn't be hidden from her face, or from Dean's.

"Come on," she pressed, and she took a step back from Sam towards the car. "Let's go."

* * *

 _Four Hours Later — Palo Alto, California — Stanford_

The Impala came to a steady stop outside of the large apartment building where Sam lived. The drive back had seemed so fast to all of them, unlike the drive from there to Jericho. This time, the three of them had spoken to each other, they had laughed together, there had been no silence, no arguments, no awkwardness, simply three siblings catching up on the years they had missed out on.

There was a soft frown on Sam's face as he climbed out of the car. He leaned down slightly and glanced between them through the passenger window. "Call me if you find him?" Both Dean and Danielle nodded. "And, maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?"

"Yeah, alright." Dean agreed, although deep down he didn't expect it to ever happen. Sam patted the roof of the car and turned to walk away, but something stopped him. "Hey, Sam?" He turned. "You know, we made a hell of a team back there, the three of us."

Sam nodded, and a sad smile graced his face. "Yeah."

Dean and Danielle said nothing more, and Sam turned his back on them and headed back towards his normal life.

The Impala took off once more down the road, and Danielle climbed over the bench into the front.

"Watch your boots on the leather, kid." Dean chastised, but the only response he received was a light punch to the arm as she sat back down. He glanced between her and the road, and he raised an eyebrow. "You alright, Dan?"

"Yeah," She nodded, but she didn't look convinced. "I'm fine."

Dean frowned, and he studied her for a moment, as long as he could before he had to turn back to the road. There was something about the way she was sitting, with her legs pulled up to her chest, and the way her brow was creased, she looked concerned, worried, maybe even afraid. He had to wonder, was it all about Sam? Or was this something more? Was this about their dad?

He opened his mouth to ask, but he thought twice, and he closed it again. It wasn't the time, or the place.

"Tell you what," He pressed, a little brighter. "How about we head to a bar and have a few beers, then we'll get take out and watch some crappy horror movie back at the motel? We'll worry about everything else tomorrow."

Danielle nodded, and she smiled. "Yeah." she agreed. "Sounds good to me."

"Hey, uh, what time is it?" he asked, curious. "My watch stopped."

Danielle glanced down to her own wrist, and she raised an eyebrow. "Mine, too."

They looked between each other, and their eyes found each other's for a moment. Something was wrong. Without the need for confirmation, Dean swerved the car and set off back towards Stanford.

The Impala screeched to an abrupt halt outside of the apartment building, and Danielle lunged forwards with the unexpected force. People were already gathering outside on the road, and their attention was fixed solely to one of the windows a few floors up. There was no question, it belonged to their brother. Bright flames burned clearly through the thin glass, and smoke seeped out through the open window.

Dean was already out of the car and sprinting towards the front doors of the building before Danielle had even had the chance to process what was happening around her. Acting on pure instinct, eyes wide, she followed him, never giving it a second thought. But Dean stopped. He turned to face her at the bottom of the steps, right before the doors, and he shook his head.

"Stay here." he ordered, his voice was hard, demanding.

But Danielle frowned. "Dean—"

"Don't fight me on this, Dan." he urged. "Please. Just, stay here."

Danielle shook her head at him, fearful. "No, Dean." she pushed. "I—"

"Danielle!" His hands took a hard grip on her shoulders as he marched her backwards, and he refused to let go. "Don't you dare." he warned. There was a pleading look in his eyes that begged her not to argue. "Please. I'll get him, I promise. Just, don't move."

But she wasn't willing to back down. She pushed him hard in the chest, and she made a move to get past him. "Are you fucking crazy?" she snapped. "You are not going in there alone! You don't know what's in there with him or—"

"Dan!" he yelled. "We don't have time to stand here and fight. I am not going to lose you, alright? Stay. Here." His voice softened. "Please, Dani."

Her green eyes found his, and he could see the tears that threatened to fall. The fear that shone there was something he rarely saw in her, but, this time, he couldn't afford to dwell on it. Tentative, and against every fiber in her body, she released her grasp on his jacket, and she took a short step back from him.

"Be careful." she urged. "Please, Dean. Be careful."

Dean nodded, and, with one last look at her, he turned and continued on his way towards the doors of the building.

All she could do was stand and watch him go, and she closed her eyes in some kind of prayer that they would both come out of there again. The smell of smoke filled the air, and she was sure she could already feel the heat as it came from the building.

Ten minutes passed. Ten minutes of wanting to be sick with fear, worry, desperation. Ten minutes of wanting to run into that building and find them. But then it was over.

Dean appeared in the doorway of the building, and, from where she was standing, he looked as though he was forcing Sam out with him. His brother was fighting him, shoving him in the chest as though he wanted to go back. Dean all but dragged him out, and he forced him through the double glass doors onto the street. He only released the harsh grip he held on his jacket when they reached the side of the road.

Danielle turned to look at Dean, and her eyes searched his face for some kind of an answer, some kind of an explanation. His eyes found hers, remorseful and scarred, and she knew. He gave a slow shake of his head, and that was enough for her to understand exactly what had happened in that apartment.

Almost hesitant, she turned to their younger brother, and she approached. His face was the picture of a broken man, his eyes were watery and shone with the loss that he had just experienced, and her heart broke for him. She took a loose hold of his hand, and she gave it a soft squeeze.

"I'm so sorry, Sam." she stated, soft, genuine. "For all of it."

Sam said nothing, she wasn't sure that he could, but he gave her hand a tight squeeze in response.

"Give me a minute." he muttered, distant, as his hand slipped from hers. He walked away, and he refused to look back at either of them. His shoulders were slumped, and he walked without direction or purpose. He was beaten.

Danielle sighed sadly as she watched him go, but she wouldn't push him. Instead, she turned back to Dean, whose attention was fixed solely to the apartment building before them. There were more and more people gathering on the road. The fire service and police and ambulance service were taking over, and flashing lights and the sound of sirens seemed to absorb any silence that had been present.

There were tears in her eyes, and all Dean could do was place an arm firmly around her shoulder and pull her closer to him.

Danielle looked towards Sam, and she sighed sadly. He stood at the trunk of the Impala with a shotgun in his hand, and the force that he was using to load it was spurred on by pure anger, desperation, loss.

"What are we gonna do?" she asked, her voice hushed.

Dean followed her eyes toward their brother, and he shook his head. "I don't know, Dan." he murmured. "Come on."

Sam looked shattered, broken, confused. He was pale, and his eyes were bloodshot. Slowly, almost hesitant, he looked between the two people standing behind him, and he sighed. He tossed the the shotgun in his hand into the trunk and slammed it closed.

"We got work to do."

* * *

 _Palo Alto, California — Motel Room — 04:56 AM._

The room that Danielle opened her eyes to was dark, and she couldn't remember when she had fallen asleep. She remembered the tossing and turning, she remembered the headache, and she remembered thinking to herself that sleep just wasn't going to happen for her that night, clearly, she had been wrong. She pulled a hand down her face, and she forced herself to sit up. The sight of the figure sitting at the table at the other side of the room startled her, and she jumped a little in shock. She frowned at her brother, because it wasn't like him to be awake at such a time. He sat at the table with their dad's journal open before him, and there was a bottle of whiskey beside it. The only light in the room came from the dim lamp behind him, but, even through the bad light, she noted the look on his face. The journal was opened on a page close to the beginning, and she knew that he had to be reading about their mother.

"Are you alright?" she asked softly, and her voice was low enough that there was no chance of disturbing Sam.

But Dean didn't appear to have heard her. He didn't respond, he didn't react, he didn't even blink. He seemed far too lost in his own thoughts to be listening to anything that was going on around him. That worried her. She climbed out of bed and crossed the room towards him, cautious, and she took a seat in the chair opposite him.

"Dean?" she pressed. "What's wrong?"

Dean gave the smallest shake of his head, and his brow furrowed as he tried to string together a coherent sentence. His gaze never shifted from the page in front of him.

"I don't know." he admitted. His voice was small, almost timid. It was a tone she didn't recognize. "I don't know, Dan."

"Dean?" She followed his eyes to the spot they refused to leave, and her stomach turned at the photo of their mom and dad that lay atop the open journal. "What's going on?"

It was a rare thing that he ever looked the way he did there, in fact, she wasn't sure that she had ever seen him look so upset before. It concerned her. Whatever was going on in his head, it wasn't good, that much she could tell. She considered the idea that it was something to do with their parents. Maybe it was the anniversary of their mother's death that was on his mind, because, only then did she realize, it was today. Or maybe it was that he was thinking about their dad, and the fact that he hadn't been in Jericho waiting for them, the way she knew he had hoped he would be.

Dean finally managed to face her, and he looked wrecked. "I saw her, Dan. When she—" But he stopped himself, abrupt. He wouldn't say anything more, she wasn't sure that he could.

Danielle frowned at him, and it took her a moment to understand. "Jess?"

Dean nodded. "She was," He took a short breath, as though to compose himself, and it was clear that he was struggling to get it out. "She was on the ceiling, Dani."

Danielle stared at him, because she didn't look sure of how to react to what he had said. She hoped to god that they weren't thinking about the same thing, but, judging by the old photograph before him, she knew that they were.

"You mean like..." she trailed off, and she shook her head. "Dean, what?"

"It was exactly the same way that dad described mom." he stated. His voice was small, maybe even afraid. "Burning on the ceiling, her stomach cut..." he trailed off, and he seemed to lose track of his words for a moment. "It was the same thing, Dan. Whatever did that to our mom, it was there. I know it. It was inside that room."

For a long moment, Danielle was silent. There was an obvious question to ask, but, deep down, she already knew what the answer was going to be.

"Have you called dad?" she pressed, cautious.

Dean huffed. "Yeah, all I got was his voicemail." he muttered, glum. "You were right, Dani. You were right all along. We never should have come here. We never should have brought Sam back into this life."

"Dean, this is not on you." she told him, blunt. "Don't even start thinking like that."

"You said it, Dan, you said it's never just a weekend." He shook his head. "I should have known that."

Danielle gave a soft sigh, and her gaze shifted towards their sleeping brother. Her green eyes lingered on him for a moment, remorseful. "Poor kid." she murmured.

"What are we gonna do, Dan?" Dean asked her, and, as she looked back to him, his eyes pleaded with her for some kind of reassurance.

But, the truth was, she was just as lost as he was. "I don't know." she admitted. Tentative, she reached out and pulled their dad's journal towards herself. She closed it softly, and shifted it towards the edge of the table, out of sight. "It'll be alright. He'll be alright. We'll get him through this."

Dean looked up to face her, and his eyes found hers. There was no confidence behind her stance, and it didn't take a genius to work that out. But he offered a nod in way of agreement, because what else could he do?

"Yeah." he muttered, despondent. He didn't believe it, and, he knew, neither did she. "I know."

A soft sigh escaped her and, despite how she tried to avoid it, her eyes fell back to the journal that lay before them. "You know, I had a bad thought tonight." she said, tentative.

Dean looked to her, and he raised an eyebrow, curious. "I already don't like the look on your face." he muttered, exasperated. "Do I even wanna know?"

"Those co-ordinates." she stated. "Dad wants us to go somewhere, we can agree on that, right?" He frowned at her, as if to ask what she was trying to say. "Maybe it's not that he wants us to meet him there."

"So, what?" he pressed. "Why else would he leave us that message?"

"Maybe he left us that journal on purpose. Because we both know that he isn't on speed dial anymore when we get stuck on a hunt." She sighed, because she could see that he wasn't following. "Look at it, Dean. He's given us all we need to hunt without him. I think he wants us to do it without him. I don't think he's missing. I know you're not gonna want to believe it, but I just don't think that he wants to be found."

Dean regarded her for a long moment, and a thoughtful frown took over his features. "Why, though?" he asked. "I don't get it."

Danielle shook her head, at a loss. "I don't know." she admitted. "Honestly, Dean, I just don't know anymore."


	5. The Monster In The Woods

_Apologies for the late update, I know it_ _'s been like forever since I've posted._

 _Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

 **Danielle Winchester**

 **Chapter Five: The Monster In The Woods**

 _Stanford, California_ _— Bluebird Motel — 09:23 AM_

The creak of the bathroom door opening at the other side of the room startled Dean, and he stole a brief glance away from the blurred words of his father's journal, rested against his lap, as his sister emerged from the doorway. Slowly, cautious, he looked her up and down, and a curious frown furrowed its way to his brow.

"Wow." he commented, nonchalant, as his green eyes fell back to the yellowing pages of the book. "You look nice." He couldn't even remember what sort of malevolent creature he had been reading about. Honestly, his mind had been elsewhere.

The tone in his voice silently asked why she was dressed the way that she was, as though he knew that she was going somewhere and he simply didn't want to ask her outright. Why, he wasn't sure. Maybe he was afraid of what she would say.

Danielle only quirked an eyebrow in response, and she smiled slightly. "You sound surprised." she rebuked, but her voice was soft, and there was no sarcasm in her tone to support her reply. She sounded tired, defeated, eerily disheartened. That wasn't like her. And that worried him.

Dean studied her carefully. The black dress that she wore was one that he hadn't seen on her in months; it reached just above her knees and was fitted in it's design. It remained elegant against her small frame. It was matched so precisely with a pair of black stilletos that added inches to her height, ones he noted were still discoloured at the heel with mud from the last hunt she had worn them on, when they had crashed a black tie event in search of a pagan god. Her blonde hair fell into graceful curls over her tanned shoulders, and the make up on her face had been so delicately applied that he no longer had to wonder why she had been locked in the small bathroom for so long.

Surely, he had to be missing something. Where could she possibly be going, dressed the way she was, at that time on a Thursday morning?

The journal on his lap snapped closed and was instantly forgotten about as he tossed it aside to the bed, and he sat up a little straighter. "Where are you going?" he pressed, curious, when he was certain that she wasn't giving out any more information without prompting.

Cautious, her eyes fell towards Sam, who lay atop the other bed that the small motel had to offer, facing away from them. She couldn't be sure that he was sleeping, because it was a rare thing for him to do lately, and, silently, she nodded for Dean to follow her towards the door.

With a frown, and growing more suspicious by the minute, he went after her. Something was up. Together, they stepped out of the motel room, and Danielle pulled the door softly closed behind them.

Dean raised his eyebrows, expectant. "So, do you have an interview with the men in black or something?" he asked, intrigued. "What's with all the secrecy?"

Danielle gave a slow shake of her head, and she looked down towards her feet, suddenly uncomfortable as though she was assuming he was going to disagree with whatever she was going to tell him. That had never been something that bothered her. Usually, he knew she would have no problem telling him what was on her mind, or where she was going, or what she was planning. The fact that she was so uncharacteristically quiet, it unnerved him.

"I'm gonna go to Jessica's funeral." she stated, blunt.

Dean blinked, and then he blinked again, a little taken aback. Admittedly, he hadn't been expecting that. "You are?"

It was no secret that Danielle had been pressing Sam about attending his late girlfriend's funeral. In fact, it had been the topic of conversation almost every time Dean had entered a room over the past few days. She had tried and tried to persuade him to go, but their brother had refused and refused until there had been nothing more that she could say without coming across as insensitive. Dean, however, saw both sides of their argument; he saw his sister fighting to ensure that her kid brother wouldn't one day wake up and regret that he hadn't been there, he saw her pushing him to find his closure, to not make one of the biggest mistakes of his life, and he saw his brother fighting tooth and nail with every ounce of strength that he had not to fall apart at the seams at just the mere thought of it. Truthfully, he had opted to stay out of it. He offered no opinion and he took no side.

Danielle cleared her throat, somewhat awkward, and he couldn't understand why she felt that way talking to him.

"We were talking about it last night, and, I don't know... I think that he wants to go... I think that he wants to be there.. he just..." she trailed off with a shrug, she didn't know the words to explain their conversation. "I don't want him to wake up one day and regret that he wasn't there to say goodbye to her. But I can't force him to go. It's his choice. So, I'm gonna go for him. I mean, I know that it's not the same, but," She sighed. "Seems like the right thing to do, I guess."

For a long moment, Dean was silent, contemplative. And then he offered her a nod in way of understanding. It was a gesture that he hadn't even thought of making, and a part of him suddenly felt so guilty of that fact. This girl had been the love of his brother's life, maybe he should have considered going to her funeral. Especially given that it was their lifestyle that had cost this girl her future.

Slowly, as though tentative, he pulled his sister towards him, and he wrapped his arms around her tightly. It took her a moment, but she raised her arms around his middle and heaved a sigh against his chest.

"You've got a good heart in you, Dani." he told her, solemn. "I never give you enough credit for that."

Danielle gave a weak smile as she pulled away, and she folded her arms across her chest as she moved to lean against the white fence around their motel's porch. Her blonde hair shone lighter in the sun, and she rubbed at her bare arm in attempt to warm her skin from the chill in the air. There was a look on her face that proved there was something more on her mind, and he could tell that she wasn't sure she wanted to share whatever that was.

"Dan?" he pressed. "What's going on?"

Danielle looked up to face him, and her green eyes found his. "This isn't fair, Dean." she murmured, so soft that he barely heard it. "This girl wasn't even out of college. She had her whole life ahead of her. And our life took that. We dragged Sam away from her, we brought him back into this life, and look what happened." She looked away, and for a moment he was sure that she was fighting away tears. "Whatever way I look at this, whatever Sam says about this, we cannot deny that we played a part in her death."

Dean frowned at her. "Danielle." He shook his head. "No. This is not—"

" _Don't_." she stopped him, abrupt. "Don't tell me I'm wrong. Don't tell me that this isn't on us."

"I wasn't going to." he countered. "I was going to say that this isn't on _you_." Her face faltered to a frown, confused. "Look, _I_ was the one who said that we had to go back for him, Dan, not you. It was _me_ who dragged him back into this. You said it yourself, it's never just a weekend. You said something would happen, and it did."

"How are we even supposed to look him in the eye, Dean?" she asked, her voice was small, almost afraid. "He blames himself so much for this. He holds himself accountable for _everything_ that happened that night, and, what? We're supposed to sit there and let him?"

"No, we aren't. And, we won't." he assured. "Look, I know things look bad right now, and I know he's in a bad place, but things will get better."

But his sister looked anything but convinced. "When?"

Dean shook his head. "We need to find dad." he stated, and he felt as though that was the only phrase he could actually say anymore. It was becoming his answer to everything. Because, honestly, he didn't know what other answers there were out there. "This thing, whatever it is, it killed our mom, Dani. It was in Sam's bedroom that night, it—" He stopped himself, because there were certain details he just couldn't recount. "Dad needs to be in this with us. We can't take it down alone."

"Yeah, so where the hell is he?" she pushed. "We've got _nothing_ , Dean."

"That's not true." he countered.

"Oh, right. We've got co-ordinates to a place he may or may not be. How long are we supposed to chase him around before we finally find him? How many times are we supposed to take a beating while he's MIA doing god knows what?" She was angry, and, for the first time, she was showing it. "He's our _dad_ , Dean. Why the hell is he doing this to us?"

A couple of stray tears fell from her eyes and trailed their way down her cheeks. As though embarrassed, she wiped them away immediately.

Dean's entire expression softened. "I don't know." he admitted. "I don't know anymore than you do, sis. But, that's why we have to find him. So we can ask him that ourselves. It's the only way that we're gonna find any real answers." Danielle sighed, and she looked away across the parking lot, distant. "What?" he pressed.

But she shook her head. "Nothing." she muttered. "Look, I gotta go."

Danielle made a move to turn, but he took a hold of her wrist. "No." He stopped her. "What is it?"

Tentative, she looked back to him, and he could see something reflected in her eyes, fear, terror, uncertainty. "Did you ever think that what happened to mom wasn't... random?"

Dean looked to her, perplexed. It was something he had never heard her ask before, something that he had never asked himself.

"What the hell does that mean?" he pressed, defensive.

"I don't know." she admitted. "The other night, when you were telling me about Jessica... I had this thought. I mean, for this thing to come back after so long, for it to find Sam and take Jessica away like it did... maybe this thing has some kind of grudge on our family. I mean, that night, with mom, maybe it wasn't some random monster taking a random woman. Maybe it knew who she was, or, maybe it knew who dad was."

"No," Dean shook his head. "Dad wasn't even a hunter back then. Why would some random monster want to hurt our family?"

"We've seen monsters hurt innocent families before, Dean." she reasoned. "I'm just saying... with this thing coming back for Jess, maybe it isn't finished with us. Maybe it wants something."

Dean thought on her words for a long moment, and suddenly he realised that maybe there was a reason she had been so quiet over the past few days. Every time he had spoken to her she had seemed distant, locked away in her own dark thoughts about something, maybe that had been it all along. Suddenly the air seemed to grow so much colder, and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He took a short breath, shaking the thoughts from his mind.

"Dani, I love you, you know that... but you're starting to freak me out."

"Yeah, well, I freaked myself out, too." she agreed. "This thing being back, it scares me, okay? A lot."

"I know." He looked to her, and he offered a slight shrug. "It scares me, too, Dan."

For a moment, neither sibling said a word, both lost in their own thoughts of their mother and the monster that had taken her away from them. They weren't comforting thoughts, in fact, they were downright terrifying. The thought that this thing could simply show up at any time, the idea that it was still out there somewhere, plotting, waiting, it was frightening, to all of them.

But they were thoughts that Dean couldn't afford to dwell on. He reached into the pocket of his jeans and held out the keys to the Impala. "Be careful out there, alright?"

"Yeah," She took the keys from him. "I will be. Keep an eye on our brother."

"Sam's gonna be okay, Dan." he assured. "He just needs some time."

Danielle nodded, but she didn't appear at all convinced by his words. "I hope you're right."

* * *

 _Stanford, California — Whitehall Cemetery — 10:15 AM._

It had been a long time since Sam had attended a funeral, especially one of someone whom he had been so close to.

The funerals he had seen in his lifetime had been nothing like the scene before him. A hunter's funeral was nothing in comparison. It consisted simply of a few hunters, dressed in their tattered jackets and worn jeans, standing before a burning corpse doused in salt and gasoline, ignited by flames that indicated to the world that evil had triumphed. They drank whiskey from the bottle and murmured their goodbyes, and that was the best outcome. That was on the rare occasion that a hunter actually received a goodbye, on the rare occasions that there was a body recovered to say goodbye to, or there were people who cared enough to say it.

There were no flowers at a hunter's funeral, not like the white and pink ones that lined the side of the open grave across the grass before him. There would be no photographs, not like the one of Jessica beside her waiting headstone, beautiful and smiling as though there had been nothing dark or bad to fear in the world. There wouldn't be the dozens of mourners, friends and families gathered together to find closure in a loss that none of them could even begin to comprehend. They were all dressed in their best clothes, wearing their best shined shoes, solemn and weeping for a young girl who had barely even started in life.

Sam adjusted his tie, and suddenly he felt so inadequate. Suddenly, he felt so out of place there, and a part of him was aware that this was going to be his last taste of normality. He wasn't just saying goodbye to Jessica; he was saying goodbye to the whole world that he had envisioned with her. Nothing that came after this was going to be the normal, safe life that he had craved.

But, maybe that wasn't the life he was destined to have. Maybe this wouldn't be his kind of goodbye, perhaps he was always going to be one of those hunters who was burned and forgotten about. Maybe it was the same for Dean and Danielle.

The tomb stones that surrounded him were lined in neat rows, and their perfectly sculptured marble reflected the rays of the November sun. A cold wind rustled through the bare trees, already past shedding their leaves, and he shuddered a little. He glanced through the crowd of people, and his attention settled on a couple standing beside the casket, ready to be lowered into the ground forever. They were Jessica's parents. Her mother leaned into her husband for support, and he could see from there that she was fighting with all her strength not to break down. What was he to do? Could he really walk over to them and express his sorrow knowing that the life he had lived had been the reason they were all gathered there? Could he really look them in the eye when he knew that, had their only daughter never met him, she would more than likely still be with them? It didn't seem right.

It was at that thought that his eyes fell to another guest. Behind the chairs, stacked out in neat rows, standing away from the funeral, was a girl. It was someone that he had not expected to see there, and he wondered why she was there at all. She stood just within earshot, but far enough away so not to draw any attention to herself, the same as he was doing where he stood. Her face was hidden by a pair of dark sunglasses, and he watched as she pulled her leather jacket tighter around herself to shield herself from the wind.

Slowly, he approached.

"What are you doing here?" he asked her, almost accusing.

Danielle appeared startled by the new presence beside her, and she glanced up to him. He wasn't sure which of them looked more surprised to see the other. Her face softened.

"Sam." she acknowledged, and her attention returned to the scene before her. "You scared me."

"What are you doing here, Danielle?" he asked her again, this time with a little more purpose. He wanted an answer.

Danielle opened her mouth to respond, but she quickly closed it again, and she looked down towards the ground. "I don't know." she murmured. It wasn't as though she could stand there at his girlfriend's funeral and express her own guilt over the situation, she couldn't tell him that a part of her knew that she and Dean were responsible, that wasn't fair. "You said that you couldn't be here. Felt like at least one of us should be."

Sam thought on her words for a moment, and he gave a short nod. His sister had been right all along. When he had been adamant that he couldn't attend, convinced that it wasn't right for him to be there knowing that it was his fault she was gone, her pushing had changed his mind. When she had told him that he had to go, that he had to say goodbye to the only girl he had ever truly loved, he had listened. It had took him a while, but he had heard her. And he was relieved that he had.

"Thank you." he stated, sincere. Because, truthfully, he was glad that he didn't have to face it alone.

Danielle took a hold of his hand, and she offered a gentle smile. "Come on." She coaxed him towards the back row of chairs, and together they took a seat.

Sam didn't let go of her hand until the end, until everyone had said their goodbyes and her casket had been lowered into the ground, never to be seen by anyone again. He wiped harshly at his eyes and he watched as the guests began leave one by one until there was only the two of them left there, still sitting in the same seats, silent. He couldn't understand his own sadness, or how it could possibly ever get better.

"We're okay, right?" he asked, so sudden and so blunt that he surprised himself. There was an uncertainty to his words, as though he wasn't sure of what his answer was going to be.

But a frown furrowed at his sister's brow. "What do you mean?"

Sam shrugged. "Us." he clarified. "Me and you. I mean, I know you weren't exactly thrilled at the idea of having me back."

Danielle sighed. "Sam—"

"No." he stopped her, blunt. "Look, I don't blame you. I cut you out. Both of you. I get why you were so angry—"

"Sam. It doesn't matter anymore, okay?" She turned slightly in her seat, enough to face him, and she pushed the sunglasses she wore to the top of her head. "It's not what you think." He looked to her, and her eyes found his. "Look, all this... I... it was never about me being pissed at you. Well, maybe some part of it was, but... truth is, Sam, I was afraid of something like this happening. I was scared that you coming back would mean you'd be back for good, that something would go bad and you'd end up stuck back in this life forever. Because, I know it isn't what you want. I know how hard you tried to get away from it all. And," She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry that we came back for you that night. I'm sorry that we brought you back into this, and I'm sorry that you lost her because of it."

Sam stared at her, perplexed. "Danielle... this isn't on you. You know that, right?" He searched her face for some kind of answer, but he could see the guilt clearly behind her eyes. "I don't blame you for this. And I don't blame Dean. This is on me."

"No." She shook her head at him. "Sam, I need you to listen to me. This was _not_ your fault. This didn't happen because you left her for a weekend. I think..."

But she trailed off, as though to say she had already said too much.

"What?" he pressed, cautious.

Danielle appeared uncomfortable. "I know this isn't gonna be nice to hear, but..." She sighed. "I think that thing, whatever it is, I think it would have found her whether you were there or not."

Sam frowned, suddenly defensive. "What does that mean?" he pressed. "Are you saying she did something to deserve this?"

" _What_?!" She looked appalled at just the thought. "No, of course not. I just mean..." She searched for the right words. "Look, Jessica wasn't just anyone, Sam. And this wasn't just some creature. This is the thing that killed our mom. Out of all the monsters, why that one? And, why Jess? I think this thing wanted to hurt you. And it knew how to do it."

Sam's jaw tightened as he possessed her words, because it wasn't the first time those thoughts had been inside his head, but to hear someone else say it made the threat that much realer. His expression grew suddenly darker, and a new found determination washed through him. "Well, we're gonna find this thing." he assured. "And I'm gonna make it pay. It's not gonna get away with this again."

And, with those words, Sam pushed himself from his seat and stalked off across the grass. And all Danielle could do was watch him go.

* * *

 _One Week Later — Colorado — Impala — 03:59 PM._

The sound of a soft humming was what stirred Danielle from her light sleep, and it took her a moment to process where she was. The Impala was speeding down some secluded highway, Metallica played softly through the speakers, and the trees that surrounded them were nothing more than a green blur at the side of the road. Dean's eyes were focused solely on the horizon ahead, his fingertips tapped gently against the steering wheel to the rhythm of the music, and it seemed as though they were miles away from anywhere. For a moment, she could have been content with that thought.

Tentative, she glanced towards the back seat of the car where her brother seemed to be lost in a peaceful slumber of his own. She was more than content with that thought, too, because it seemed like days since he had rested without the interruption of nightmares and dark thoughts haunting his sleep.

"You're awake." Dean observed, and he glanced briefly between her and the road. "You alright?"

Danielle offered a shrug. "Fine." she murmured, and she pulled a hand down her face as she shifted in her seat. Strangely, she felt more exhausted than she had before she had fallen asleep. "Where are we?"

"Um..." Dean thought for a moment. "Just outside of Grand Junction. Not much further to go."

Danielle nodded, he assumed more out of politeness than anything else, because, he noticed, she didn't look too bothered either way.

"Do you think dad's gonna be here?" she asked him, cautious.

Dean looked to her for a moment, and he could see clearly the worry in her eyes. She was scared. "I don't know, Dan." he admitted. "I hope so."

This time, she didn't get the chance to respond. A sharp gasp sounded from behind her, and it interrupted any thought she'd had. Sam startled awake, and he shot up from where he lay, more alert than ever. His eyes searched the car, as though he had only then realized where he was. Dean and Danielle shared a look, and Sam didn't miss it. He looked away from them.

"Are you alright?" Danielle asked, patient, concerned. Already, she knew what the answer was; he was worn out, he was grieving, he was frustrated and he was desperate for some kind of an answer. She wasn't sure why she was still asking him. Because she knew that he was going to lie to her.

"Yeah," He nodded, as enthusiastically as his weary body would allow. "I'm fine."

"Another nightmare?" she pressed.

This time, however, he simply looked away, silent. He wasn't going to talk about it, but he wasn't going to lie.

Dean cleared his throat, and he looked back at him through the rear view mirror. "You wanna drive for a while?" he offered.

Sam huffed a laugh, admittedly he was a little taken aback. "Dean, your whole life, you've never once asked me that."

Dean simply shrugged, as though it wasn't a big deal. "Just thought you might want to." he muttered. "Never mind."

A tense silence seemed to fall over the car, and Sam sighed. "Look, man, you're worried about me, you both are, I get it. And, thank you. Really. But I am perfectly okay." he assured.

Once again, Dean and Danielle shared _that_ look. One of concern, disbelief, and a search to the other for support. Again, he ignored it.

Exasperated, he reached forwards and picked up the laminated map that lay in the space between his siblings, and he glanced over it carefully. There was a large 'X' labelled '33-111' in the centre, their father's co-ordinates. It seemed so wrong that they were just driving away from everything that had happened, taking another job as though there had been no reason to stick around. Was this how it was going to be from now on? Were they going to run from place to place until California was nothing more than a distant memory?

"You know, maybe we shouldn't have left Stanford so soon." he commented, earnest.

Dean looked over towards his sister, and she looked about as clueless as he felt. The truth was, neither of them knew how to deal with what was happening around them, they didn't know what they could do or say to make things easier for their brother, they didn't know how was best to support what he was going through, because they didn't understand it. They had never experienced a loss like that, they didn't know what it felt like to lose someone they had built a life with in the way he had with Jessica. All the two of them had was each other, they didn't give themselves the option to lose people, because the two of them hadn't let another person into their lives since Sam had left.

Honestly, they had been trying to avoid the subject as best they could, figuring that, in true Winchester way, Sam would bring it up with them when he was ready to talk about it. If ever. He had been quiet over the past week, more so than usual. He hadn't slept more than an hour or so at a time, always seeming to have his dreams interrupted by some haunting nightmare or memory. It was hard to watch.

"Sam," Dean reasoned. "We dug around there for over a week. We came up with nothing. If you wanna find the thing that killed Jessica—"

"We gotta find dad first." he concluded. He knew it was true, he just wished that they had a real lead. Something to give them an answer faster.

"Dad disappearing, and this thing showing up again after twenty years, it's no coincidence. Dad will have answers." he assured, but he wasn't sure that even he believed that. "I think Dan's right, this wasn't random. That thing knows what it's doing. There has to be a reason. He'll know what to do."

Sam gave a slow nod, unconvinced. That was the best he could hope for. "It's weird, man." He frowned down at the map. "These co-ordinates he left us, this Blackwater Ridge... there's nothing there. It's just woods. Why is he sending us to the middle of nowhere?"

Dean shook his head, and Danielle shrugged. They knew no more than he did.

Beside the highway was a sign; 'Welcome to Lost Creek Colorado National Forest.'

"Guess we're about to find out." Danielle murmured.

The Impala cruised to a gentle stop outside of a small cabin like building, and Danielle already had a bad feeling about it all. Some part of her just knew that their father wasn't going to be there, and it was a feeling that she simply couldn't shake. There was something more going on than her brothers seemed to be aware of. There was something wrong. She was sure, Dean was still expecting their dad to just show up and tell them everything they needed to hear, he was waiting for the moment that he appeared with all the answers to questions they hadn't even thought to ask yet.

But she wasn't so sure. She wasn't so easily convinced. It wasn't like their dad to just disappear, especially given the fact that she and Dean were still so new to hunting without him. When they had first gone off alone he had never been off the phone, checking in with them almost every night just to ensure that they hadn't gotten themselves killed, and that they weren't in any kind of trouble. Had he stopped worrying about them? Had his initial concern and discomfort in the situation faded? Or was it something more? Did their father even know about Jessica? Did he know that Sam was back in the life? Did he even care?

There was a bigger question, one that haunted her thoughts late at night, one that she tried not to give the time of day if she could help it. Was he okay? Had something happened to him? Was that why he had suddenly stopped calling? What had happened to him after he had left that voicemail for Dean?

Danielle needed to know; was their father even alive? Was he out there somewhere getting on with his own hunts without giving them a second thought? Was he simply trusting them to be okay without him?

"Are you coming, Dan?" Dean's voice broke through her thoughts, and she glanced towards her brother, who was already out of the car and leaning through his own door to her.

Danielle looked up to him, unsure, but she nodded all the same, and she said nothing as she climbed from the car to follow. A dark feeling brewing in the pit of her stomach told her that there was something wrong, and she wasn't sure how much longer she was going to be able to ignore it. Or, for that matter, keep her fears hidden from her brothers.

As the car door slammed closed behind her, Dean rounded the Impala, and he slung an arm around her shoulders. With it came a reassuring squeeze, almost as though he already knew the battle she was having inside her own head.

"Is this about Sam? Or dad?" he asked, and his voice was low enough to ensure that only she heard it. She looked up at him, and the weak smile she forced told him everything he needed to know. He sighed, but he nodded in understanding. "It's gonna be fine, Dani. Relax. Dad's gonna be fine."

For a short while, she was so desperate to believe his words, to think that he believed his own words, and she leaned into him for a moment. Hesitant, she nodded. "Yeah," she agreed. "I know"

But, she didn't. None of them did. And none of them would until he made himself known to them. That was the hard part.

"It's just... weird, you know? Not being able to just call him, not knowing where he is, what he's doing.." She sighed. For the first time in her life, she could say she honestly understood that people don't understand what they have until it's gone. Her father had driven her insane at times, the same as she had done to him, and leaving to hunt alone had seemed such an appeal to her and her brother, but now she realized, it was so much harder not having him on speed dial. To know that he wasn't a phone call away when they needed him, it was a scary thought.

"It'll be fine, Dan." he told her again. Dean offered her a smile as he released her from his hold, and he ruffled her hair. "Trust me."

When she and Dean entered the Ranger's station, Sam was already there, and he barely looked up at them from the area maps and information that he was studying so intently. The room was small, there were information boards everywhere they turned displaying nature hikes and alternate routes that could be taken. Danielle had to wonder how many people really did get a kick out of wandering around the woods for hours at a time.

"So, Blackwater Ridge is pretty remote." Sam noted, he glanced up at them as though to ensure that they were listening. "It's cut off by these canyons here," He pointed to the map, indicating a large shaded area that neither of his siblings seemed too phased by. "Rough terrain, dense forest, abandoned silver and gold miles all over the place."

But Dean still didn't appear to be listening to him. "Dude," he commented, and they turned to look at him. His eyes were fixed intently to a framed photograph on the wall. "Check out the size of this freaking bear."

Sam crossed the room and looked over his shoulder to the picture, his eyebrows raised. "And a dozen or more grizzlies in the area." he concluded. "It's no nature hike, that's for sure."

Danielle huffed. "Awesome." she muttered. "Can't wait to get chased through the trees by one of those bad boys."

There was the sound of a door opening behind them, and they all turned, only then remembering that they may not be alone. A man in his later fifties appeared behind the counter opposite them, and he smiled, welcoming. "You three aren't planning on going out near Blackwater Ridge by any chance?" he asked, as though he already knew the answer. He looked between them slowly, and his eyebrows raised as he waited for a response.

"Oh, uh, no, sir." Sam smiled. "We're, uh... environmental study majors from UC Boulder." he lied. "Just working on a paper."

Dean nodded enthusiastically, and he pumped his fist. "Recycle, man."

The ranger scoffed. "Bull." he affirmed. "You're friends with that Haley girl, right?"

Dean seemed to consider his response for a moment, and he offered a guilty smile, as though to say they had been caught out. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, we are, Ranger—" He narrowed his eyes towards the man's name badge. "Wilkinson."

Ranger Wilkinson appeared exasperated at just the thought of this girl. "Well," He sighed. "I will tell you exactly what I told her. That her brother filled out a Black-country permit saying he wouldn't be back from Blackwater Ridge until the twenty-fourth, so it's not exactly a missing persons now, is it?" He smiled, self-assured. "You tell that girl to quit worrying, I'm sure her brother is just fine."

"We will." Dean agreed, and a smirk crept onto his face. "Well, that Haley girl's quite a pistol, huh?"

Danielle rolled her eyes at him, and she shook her head, hiding a smile.

"That is putting it mildly." The ranger agreed.

And, just like that, Dean's mood seemed to perk right up. "Actually," he continued. "You know what would help is if we could show her a copy of that Black-country permit. You know, so she could actually see her brother's return date."

Ranger Wilkinson eyed him for a moment, as though suspicious, before he glanced between Sam and Danielle. The three of them waited, and Dean simply raised his eyebrows, as though to ask what the problem was.

Eventually, he caved. "Alright." he agreed. "Wait here." He turned and headed back through the door from which he had entered.

With a satisfied smirk, Dean turned towards his sister, and he snickered. "Look at the excitement on your face." he mused. "I know how much you love camping, Dani."

Danielle gave a short shake of her head, and she forced back a smile. "Bite me."

"Not if a grizzly bites you first." he countered.

Despite herself, she laughed, and she threw a light punch to his chest. He didn't even flinch. "You know, Dean, whatever it is that we're hunting out there, I hope it eats you. _Slowly_."

"Ouch." He held a hand to his heart in mock hurt. "You don't mean that, Dan. And, besides, it's not the bears of the monsters that you need to worry about."

"Oh yeah?" She raised an eyebrow. "So, what is it that I need to worry about?"

Dean shrugged, nonchalant. "I don't know.." A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Maybe the snakes... Spiders... Those giant flying bugs... The usual creepy crawlies you'd find in the woods."

The smirk had faded from her face, and she looked ready to punch him a lot harder. "Is that a joke?" she pressed. "There's no snakes in the woods, Dean." But the look on her face didn't change. "Right?" He said nothing. "Dean."

But he didn't get the chance to answer. The door opposite them once again opened, and Ranger Wilkinson appeared holding out a sheet of paper towards Dean. "You kids be careful out there." he cautioned.

Dean nodded, and he took the sheet from him. "Yes, sir." He smiled in thanks as they turned and headed out of the station.

The door slammed closed behind Sam, and he set off towards the car. "What, are you cruising for a hookup or something?" he asked his brother, accusing.

Dean appeared a little taken aback by his sudden tone. "What?"

Sam paused beside the passenger door, and he huffed. "The co-ordinates point to Blackwater Ridge, so what are we waiting for? Let's just go and find dad. I mean, why even talk to this girl?"

Dean frowned. "I don't know, Sam. Maybe we should know what we're walking into before we actually walk into it." he stated, blunt, matching his tone easily. He eyed him for a moment, curious. "Since when are you all shoot first, ask questions later, anyway?"

"Since now." he replied. His voice was hard, and there was a new found determination in his eyes. Sam meant business. He climbed into the Impala and pulled the door closed behind him, perhaps with a little more force than was needed.

"Really?" Dean pondered. "Huh." He shot a glance towards Danielle, who simply shrugged at him. She didn't know what to say.

There was nothing that they could say, and, together, they followed his lead and climbed into the car in search of the girl with the missing brother.

* * *

 _Lost Creek, Colorado — Collins House — 5:15 PM._

It had been a short drive from the ranger's station to the house they now sat outside of, and Sam only seemed to be growing more and more impatient with every minute that they weren't throwing themselves into the woods to hunt a creature they were yet to identify. He was on edge, he was angry, and he wasn't thinking straight. If it had been up to him they would have wandered straight into the woods to find out what they were dealing with face to face. It wasn't hard to see his obvious frustration, and it was something that his siblings weren't yet prepared to comment on, because there really was nothing more that they could say. He was grieving, and they had to let him do that. It was going to take more than a sorry for your loss or a reassuring promise that they were going to find their father and the monster that had taken away Jessica to snap him out of his funk. Sam wanted results, and he wanted them faster than it was possible to get them.

Neither Dean nor Danielle could argue with that. They didn't want to.

And, no surprise to either of them, Sam was the first of them out of the car. He was already halfway up the driveway towards the front door before either of his siblings had thought about moving. This behaviour wasn't like him, at all.

With purpose, Dean marched up the path behind him, and he manoeuvred himself a step closer to the door than his brother. He begrudged nobody inside having to speak to an impatient and frustrated Sam first.

Dean knocked on the door three times, and together they waited in silence for somebody to respond.

After a moment, a young, pretty girl with short black hair opened the door, and she glanced between them, wary. It was clear that she had not been expecting anybody, and she didn't look the type to simply allow strangers into her house on the idea that they could help her.

With that thought, Dean flashed her one of his more charming smiles. "You must be Haley Collins." he stated. "I'm Dean, this is Danielle, and Sam. We're, ah, we're rangers with the park service. Ranger Wilkinson sent us over, he wanted us to ask you a few questions about your brother, Tommy."

Haley's eyes narrowed, as though debating with herself whether she could trust them. "Lemme see some ID."

Dean nodded, and he nudged his sister in the arm as he took out his own badge. Together, they displayed the fake cards.

After a moment, she seemed satisfied, and she stepped aside from the doorway. "Come on in."

Once again, Dean smiled. "Thanks."

Her eyes travelled past them towards the Impala parked outside, and she raised her eyebrows. "That yours?" Dean glanced back, and he nodded. "Nice car."

Dean's smile contorted to a smirk as she turned to lead them into the house, and he glanced back towards his siblings, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. The only response he received was a roll of their eyes.

The four of them headed through to the small kitchen, where they were greeted by a young man sitting at the table. He didn't look to be out of his teenage years just yet, and his eyes were glued to the laptop screen open before him. He looked between the three strangers who now occupied his kitchen, and he shot his sister a puzzled look.

"This is my little brother, Ben." Haley introduced him, and he nodded in acknowledgement. He showed the same wariness as his sister had done at the sight of them.

Sam looked between them slowly, and any initial frustration that he had been holding onto seemed to have been left at the front door. He appeared calm, friendly, patient. "So, if Tommy isn't due back for a while yet, what makes you think something is wrong?" he asked, curious.

Haley picked up a bowl of salad, which she set on the table before her brother, preparing for dinner. "He checks in everyday by cell." she explained. "He emails photos, silly little videos... but we haven't heard from him in over three days."

"Maybe he can't get a cell reception?" he suggested. "Those woods are pretty big."

But Haley shook her head. "He has a satellite phone, too."

"Could it be that he's just having fun and forgot to check in?" Dean cut in lightly.

That comment seemed to coax Ben to join the conversation. "He wouldn't do that." he stated, blunt, defensive.

Dean looked to him, curious, as though to ask him what made him so sure.

Haley sighed. "Our parents are both gone." she stated, in answer to Dean's silent question. "It's just my two brothers and me. We all keep pretty close tabs on each other. I mean, with it being only us left... that's kinda how it has to be. I know it's hard for people to understand, but I know when something is wrong. I can feel it."

Dean shook his head. "Not as hard as you might think." he assured. He caught his sister's gaze, but she looked away.

"Hey, uh, can I see the pictures he sent you?" Sam asked, glancing between them.

"Yeah, sure." She smiled and took a seat beside her brother at the kitchen table, turning the laptop to herself as she searched through the dozens of pictures on the screen. She pulled one up at random, and the faintest hint of sorrow crept into her expression. "That's Tommy." she said, pointing to the man on the screen. He didn't look much older than her, but he looked happy wherever he was. "This isn't just him not checking in. Something is wrong. Something happened to him. I know it."

"Listen, we'll find your brother." Dean told her. "We're heading out to Blackwater Ridge tomorrow."

"Well, maybe I'll see you there." The three of them looked at her, unsure, and she sighed in defeat. "Look, I can't sit around here anymore. So I hired a guy, and I'm heading out there in the morning. I'm gonna find Tommy myself."

Danielle nodded slowly, because, honestly, she couldn't blame her one bit. Had the situation been different, had it been any one of them sitting where Haley was, they would have done the exact same thing, and every one of them knew that.

"I think I know how you feel." Dean stated vaguely.

Sam glanced back at the pictures on the screen, and he furrowed his brow, as though he had seen something that the rest of them had missed. "Hey, uh, do you mind forwarding these to me?"

Haley shrugged. "Sure."

Dean tore his eyes away from the screen, because he really didn't have much interest in watching Sam and Haley discuss forwarding emails and whatever a jpeg was. He crossed the kitchen to where his own sister was leaning back against the counter, looking as though she was lost in a world of her own thoughts. He had noticed, she seemed to be lost in that world a lot more than she was in theirs lately.

"You're pretty quiet." he observed, nonchalant, as calm as if he had been asking her about the weather.

Danielle looked up to him for a moment, and she shrugged. "I'm worried about him, Dean." she said softly. He was about to ask her whether she was talking about their brother or their father, but he didn't have to. She folded her arms tightly across her chest, and she looked over towards Sam. "He isn't acting like himself."

Dean sighed. "Look, Dani, the guy's just lost his girlfriend. What do you expect?"

"I know." she muttered. "And, trust me, I understand that. But, he is _not_ okay, Dean. He keeps saying that he is, but he isn't. What are we supposed to do here? I mean, how are we supposed to help him when he won't let us in?"

Danielle was looking up at him as though she thought he had all the answers, pleading with him to tell her that everything was going to be alright, that he knew how to make things better, that he could fix everything, but, this time, he knew that he couldn't. "I meant what I said, Dani, he just needs time. He'll be okay. And, you know, once we find dad, once we find out what happened that night, maybe he can find some kind of closure on it all. Maybe that's what he needs to move on. We just need to find dad, that's how we can help him."

Danielle huffed. "Yeah, and we both know that's easier said than done, Dean." she murmured, disheartened.

Dean frowned. "What does that mean?"

Danielle opened her mouth to respond, but she paused, maybe it was time to tell him the truth. Maybe it was time to confess the real fears that she held for their father, maybe it was time to tell him what she really thought, that maybe things weren't so black and white and maybe he wasn't just busy on a hunt. But she didn't get the chance.

Sam was already on his feet and headed towards the door. Dean and Danielle offered a small wave to Haley and Ben before they turned to follow their brother from the house. The sun was already setting in the sky, and the street suddenly seemed so much darker than it had done before they had entered. They headed down the path towards the Impala in silence, until Dean checked his watch.

"I don't know about you guys, but I could go for some grub right about now." he stated, a tone brighter.

Danielle offered a weak smile. "What's new there?"

He glanced towards her with a grin. "Come on, my treat."

"Dude, for the last time, you can't call it your treat when you're paying with it on a stolen credit card." she said, exasperated, but Dean was already climbing into the car.

* * *

Lost Creek, Colorado — Bar — 9:45 PM.

Danielle weaved her way through the crowded bar towards the small table occupied by her brothers at the back of the room. The place was filled with the sound of people talking, of snooker balls being thundered into each other, and of low music somewhere in the background. The smell of fried food filled the warm air, and even she had to admit that it was making her hungry. Sam sat hunched over his laptop, surrounded by papers filled with information about the disappearances, while Dean's attention was focused solely on the large burger before him. Carefully, she placed three beers down in the centre of the table, the only place there was room for them between their research, and she dropped back into her seat.

Dean mumbled his thanks through a mouthful of food, and she grimaced slightly. "You're disgusting." she told him.

"You're missing out." he countered, taking another large bite of his burger. A smirk came to his face, and he held it out towards her. "You wanna bite? I mean, if I ever found perfect reason to start eating meat, this is it."

"I'll pass, thanks." she stated, but she reached over and took a few fries from his plate.

Dean, Sam noticed, didn't even bat at eyelid at that. "Just curious," Sam looked to her. "Since when do you not eat meat? I mean, before I left for college you were just as bad as him for the bacon cheeseburgers and bad diner food."

Danielle shook her head slowly, indicating it was the last thing in the world she could possibly want to discuss with him.

But Dean seemed more than willing, and he snickered to himself. "We took a hunt with dad, not long after you left," he explained, humour shone in his eyes as he spoke. "Would you believe the case of the haunted slaughterhouse?" He dropped his burger and held a hand to his heart. "Once she'd seen what really happens to those helpless little chickens, she never ate a nugget again. Poor girl cried all night. She even threw out my beef jerky."

Sam glanced between them, looking unsure of whether he was supposed to laugh. "Haunted slaughter house?" He questioned. "Is he serious?"

Danielle huffed a laugh. "He makes it sound so much more dramatic than it was." she stated. "But, yeah. Turns out a slaughterhouse can be haunted. And, trust me, what the three of us saw in that place was enough to stop any normal human eating meat."

Dean looked to her, offended. "Hey. I still eat meat."

"Yeah, I rest my case." she rebuked. "So," Her attention turned to Sam. "You found us anything good?"

Danielle reached over and took a few more fries from her brother's plate, and he frowned at her, exasperated. "You said you weren't hungry." he muttered. "Stop. Eating. My. Food."

Sam rolled his eyes, and Danielle laughed. "Are you done?" he pressed, and they both nodded. "Alright. So, Blackwater Ridge doesn't get a lot of traffic. Local campers, mostly. But still, this past April, two hikers went missing out there. They were never found."

Danielle raised a brow. "Could just be a coincidence." she offered. "Anything before that?"

Sam opened up their father's journal, and she found herself looking anywhere but those familiar pages. The whole thing still gave her chills.

"Yeah." He pointed down at one of the pages, indicating an old newspaper article. "In 1982, eight different people all vanished in the same year. Authorities said it was a grizzly attack, but they never found any bodies." His attention returned to his laptop screen. "It happened again in 1959, and again before that in 1936. There's definitely a pattern."

"Huh." Danielle nodded. "So, we're saying that every twenty-three years people are going missing from these woods?"

"Uh-huh." He turned his laptop towards them. "Alright, watch this. I downloaded that guy Tommy's video, check it out." He pulled up the file and clicked through three separate frames, one at a time. A dark shadow crossed the back of the tent, unmistakeable. It was huge, and the shadow didn't hide it's claws as it passed.

"Do it again." Dean said, and he leaned closer to the screen to get a better look.

Sam repeated it and glanced between them. "That's three frames. It's a fraction of a second. Whatever that thing is, it can move. Fast."

Dean reached out and smacked his brother on the shoulder. "See." he enthused. "Told you something weird was going on around here."

"Yeah," He closed his laptop and placed another newspaper article on top of it. "I got one more thing. In '59, one camper survived this supposed grizzly attack, just a kid. He barely crawled out of the woods alive."

Danielle raised an eyebrow, curious. "Is there a name?" she asked, glancing between him and the article.

"Uh," He paused for a moment as he scanned the words before him. "Yeah. And he doesn't live all that far from here."

Dean nodded, impressed, and took a long drink of his beer. "That's a lead, kids."

* * *

 _Lost Creek, Colorado — Shaw House — 09:23 PM._

Dean cleared his throat and knocked harshly on the of the house before them, and a frown creased at his brow as he seemed to think twice about his actions. "You know what..." He took a step back and pushed his sister ahead of him.

Danielle glanced back to him, perplexed. "What are you doing?" she hissed.

Dean shrugged. "It's late, Dan. This guy is old." he reasoned. "People banging on the door at this time of night, out of the three of us, you're the... least threatening."

For a moment, she was too stunned by his attempted logic to respond. "What are you expecting, Dean? Some little old man afraid of his own shadow?" But her brothers simply stared at her, as though they had no comment. "Least threatening.. you're unbelievable."

"I'm sorry," Dean cocked a brow at her, incredulous. "Did being called the least threatening somehow offend you?" he asked, amused. "Wow. Okay, fine. Not the least threatening. You're... the most innocent looking. And, besides, you're good with the elderly. Is that better?"

"Uh, no? Not really." She huffed, annoyed. "I'm plenty threatening."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Will you two just shut up for once?" he groaned. "I'm starting to see why dad bailed." He reached past them to knock again, unsure that there was anyone home.

There was a sound of footsteps on the other side of the wood, heavy and impatient. An elderly man pulled open the door with some force and looked between the three strangers on his porch, accusing. He took a long drag of the cigarette between his lips and exhaled the smoke. "Yeah?" he greeted, stern.

Danielle looked a little taken aback by his bluntness, and she forced a smile. "Uh, hi. Mr Shaw?" She held up her fake ID badge, and she could only hope that her brother was doing the same thing behind her. "We're, uh, rangers with the park service. We were hoping to ask you a few questions about the attack you were involved in as a kid."

Mr Shaw narrowed his eyes at her, and his gaze moved from her to her brothers. But, he nodded. "Sure. Come on in." He returned the cigarette to his chapped lips before he turned to lead the way into the house. It was dark, gloomy, and the only source of light came from a dim lamp in the corner of the room. An old radio sounded low and static from the next room, and the faint moonlight shone through the tattered curtains at the window. "I don't know why you're asking me about this," he grumbled. "It's public record. I was a kid. My parents got mauled by a—"

"Grizzly?" Sam interrupted, and the man stilled. His face noticeably changed. "That's what attacked them?"

Mr Shaw gave a slow nod of confirmation, but he refused to look at any of them. He stubbed out his cigarette in the full ashtray on the table, and he wiped a hand over his stubbled jaw. He didn't turn back to face them.

"The other people that went missing that year, were those bear attacks, too?" Dean pushed, curious. But he remained silent. "What about all the people that went missing this year? Same thing?"

Mr Shaw didn't even flinch at the question, and he gave the impression that it wasn't the first time he had dodged the same interrogation. He didn't turn. He didn't acknowledge them. And Dean looked to his sister for some kind of help, because he was getting nowhere fast.

Danielle gave a soft sigh, and Dean watched carefully as her expression seemed to change. There was a look of understanding, patience, empathy set deep within her features, as though to tell the man before her that she had all the time in the world to listen to whatever it was he had to say. There was compassion in her eyes, a kindness, a sympathy, and he knew that there was nothing false about it.

"Mr Shaw," she pushed, her voice soft. "If we knew what we were dealing with, we might be able to stop it."

"I seriously doubt that." he rebuked, and he dropped down to the old armchair behind him. "Anyway, I don't see what difference it would make. You wouldn't believe me. Nobody ever did."

It was a story they had heard all too often; an ordinary person who had caught a glimpse of something that didn't belong in their world, they weren't believed, they were labelled as crazy, or liars. Nobody ever believed them, except for those who had seen that side of the world, too.

Danielle remained persistent, because, honestly, she felt for this man. Cautiously, she lowered herself to sit on the old couch opposite him, and she leaned forwards as though to give him her full attention. "Mr Shaw, you said you saw something in those woods, something that wasn't just a standard bear. I believe you. We all believe you. That's why we're here. To help."

A frown creased at his brow, and he regarded her for a long moment, as though unsure whether to believe her. "You're no park rangers." he concluded. "Who are you?"

Danielle contemplated her response for a moment, debating with herself how much it was sensible to tell him. "We're people who know a few things about the things people don't want to believe in." she stated. "What did you see?"

Mr Shaw looked away from her, and he heaved a deep sigh. "Nothing." he murmured. He sounded as though he was now lost in his own world of memories, and he stared off at nothing. "It moved too fast to see. It hid too well in the trees." He paused, and his eyes found hers. "I heard it, though. A roar. Like no man or animal I ever heard. It wasn't... human."

Sam nodded in understanding. "It came at night..." he pressed, curious. "And it got inside your tent."

Mr Shaw gave a firm shake of his head. "It got inside our cabin." he corrected him. "I was sleeping in front of the fireplace when it came in. It didn't smash a window or break the door. It unlocked it. Do you know of a bear that could do something like that? I didn't even wake up until I heard my parents scream."

Danielle listened to him intently, she saw the loss and the fear shining in his pale blue eyes, still haunted by the memories of that night. "It killed them?" she asked, tactful.

"Dragged them off into the night." He looked away, towards the floor. "Why it left me alive," He sighed. "Been asking myself that ever since. But," He paused, and his hand moved towards his collar. "Did leave me with this..." He pulled down his shirt to reveal the three long scars that marked his left shoulder. Her eyes widened. "There's something evil in those woods. It was some sort of demon."

"Okay." Dean concluded. "Well, we're gonna get rid of it." There was a promise in his words, assurance that the creature that had terrified this man for so long would soon be nothing more than a bad memory.

Mr Shaw shook his head. "There's no beating that thing." he warned. "It's too fast. You don't stand no chance. None of you do." His eyes rested on Danielle for a moment. "Going into those woods... it's suicide."

Sam looked between his siblings, and he seemed to decide that it was time to leave it there. He cleared his throat, and gestured towards the door. "Thank you for your time." he stated, sincere.

Danielle pushed herself up from the couch, and she crossed the room to where Dean stood waiting by the open front door for her. He stepped aside to let her pass first, but she seemed to hesitate. Slowly, she turned back to the man behind them; his face was grey and his eyes still anguished by the memories of his childhood, and her face softened.

"Mr Shaw?" His gaze returned to her. "I'm sorry about your parents." she offered, so heartfelt and so genuine that anyone who hadn't known could have gotten the impression she had known the man for years.

For a brief moment, he appeared taken aback by her words, and a soft smile came to his face. "Thank you." he stated. Those simple words seemed to have touched him, they appeared to have meant more to him than anything he had heard in a long time. "Watch yourselves out there, all of you. It's not safe. You need to be careful."

Danielle nodded as she turned to leave.

"We will, sir." Dean assured, and he rested a hand to his sister's back as he turned to follow her from the house.

The two of them headed down the short path towards the Impala, where Sam was already waiting, almost impatient. The urge to hunt this thing glistened in his eyes like fire. He was ready. And there was no slowing him down.

They climbed into the car and slammed their doors closed behind themselves, this time, Danielle didn't even contemplate getting into the front. Dean threw up his arms in defeat, and he heaved a sigh. "I got no clue what the hell we're dealing with here." he muttered. "I mean, spirits and demons don't have to unlock doors. If they want inside, they'd just go through the walls."

Sam nodded in agreement. "So, it's probably something else." he concluded. "Something corporeal."

Danielle raised an eyebrow at him. "Corporeal?" She scoffed. "'Scuse us, professor."

Dean huffed a laugh. "So, what are we thinking here?" he pressed.

"Well, whatever this thing is, it's got claws." Danielle offered. "Big claws."

Dean nodded. "So, huge claws... the speed that it moves... could be a skinwalker? Maybe a black dog?" he thought aloud. "Whatever we're talking about, we're talking about a creature. And it's... corporeal."

"Hm." Danielle frowned. "That means we can kill it. That's always a good thing."

"Exactly." Dean agreed. "Trouble is, we just don't know how. Or with what."

Sam thought on his words for a moment. "Look, whatever it is, we cannot let that Haley girl go out there."

"Oh yeah?" Dean raised an eyebrow. "And what are we gonna tell her? That she can't go into the woods because of the big scary monster?" He scoffed. "Her brother is missing, Sam. She's not gonna just sit this out. I say, we go with her. We keep her safe. And we keep our eyes peeled for out fuzzy predator friend."

Sam shook his head, incredulous. "What, finding dad isn't enough? Now we gotta babysit, too?" His siblings simply stared at him, clearly a little taken aback by his tone. "What?"

"Nothing." Dean muttered. He started the engine and took off down the road towards one of the motels.

Danielle shook her head. It was going to be a seriously long hunt.


End file.
